Nightingale
by Ticklesivory
Summary: After watching a certain romantic holovid, Dormé gets a not-so-great idea on how to get Obi-Wan and Padmé together. Obidala.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Nightingale: An ObiDala/Dormakin Fic

 **Author:** Ticklesivory

 **Rating:** T/M

 **Genre:** A mixture of romance, comedy, drama, etc.

 **Warnings:** More likely some ridiculousness ahead. This is a Dormé fic after all!

 **Disclaimer:** Not sure I need one! Yeah, Obi-Wan and Padmé and all that jazz were originally George's, but this Dormé – this three dimensional character – is mine! And I make no apologies for her!

 **Summary:** After watching a certain romantic holovid, Dormé gets an idea on how to get Obi-Wan and Padmé together.

 **A/N:** I know I've already played out a variety of these scenarios, but I choose to remain focused on the first bud of romance, which I think is the most exciting. So…pretend you've never read "The Jedi Trap," "How My Parents Got Together," etc. Let's start all over, shall we? Just for funsies?

* * *

 **Chapter One/Epilogue**

 **What a Fellow Won't Do**

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan to Obi-Wan Kenobi, could no longer keep his gaze off the ceiling while he listened to his date sniffle and blow her nose for the umpteenth time.

"Isn't that the most beautiful love story you've ever heard?" Dormé asked him between sobs, as they lay snuggled together on her employer's sofa.

One of the most tedious and lengthy holovids he had ever seen had just ended, but he couldn't complain about it. It had been Dormé's turn to pick out the movie, although his first choice wouldn't have been what she had decided on. It wouldn't have been his second either. All right. It probably would've been his last! He just didn't enjoy these sappy love stories! But she did, and Anakin was pleased to make her happy, athough she didn't exactly appear happy.

Anakin was beginning to wonder if he'd never understand women! Why they choose to deliberately make themselves miserable, and then pretend to enjoy it, made no sense to him!

But if that's how Dormé wanted to spend their evening, then so be it. He could at least be grateful she still wanted to spend it with him.

He didn't understand that either. How a beautiful young woman such as herself would want to be with him – a slave from Tatooine, still a padawan learner. He was thankful she did, although Dormé hadn't been his first interest. In fact, when he and his Master had been assigned to protect the Senator just a few short months ago, he had been excited to see the young woman from Naboo again. It had been a long time since their paths had crossed, and he wondered what Padmé Amidala looked like. He assumed she would be as lovely as the first time they had met, but when he walked into her apartment that fateful day, it wasn't Padmé who had captured his attention, it was her aid, Dormé.

Anakin was initially entranced by her beauty, her attractive figure, as well as her her dark eyes, but was soon captured by her wit, her spunk, and her vivacity. She kept him on his toes, that was for sure. The young man never knew what she was going to say or do, and he loved her for that.

Although, he didn't much care for her holovid choices; especially how she always seemed to want to discuss them afterward

"What was your favorite part?" she questioned, leaning over him in order to toss her used tissues into the awaiting trash receptacle beside the sofa.

Anakin wasted no time, though he hadn't actually watched the movie. Most of his concentration had been on her and the variety of charming emotions which had appeared on her face. He found that to be far more entertaining than the movie. What ridiculous, romantic tripe, he thought, but dare not say.

"I liked the part where the ruthless bounty hunter fired upon the squadron of evil warlords, taking them out one by one…" he jokingly replied, before being playfully swatted on the arm.

"You rat!" Dormé complained loudly. "Don't tell me you didn't pay attention! Weren't you watching the movie?"

"I was watching you," the young man confessed quietly, bringing a blush to her cheeks, which he found most flattering.

"Well," she replied, her voice becoming low and sultry. "You missed the best part."

"No," Anakin answered, pulling the young woman toward him, his words landing lightly upon her red lips, "I didn't."

He met those lips firmly, prying them open gently to drink of the sweet nectar she offered him, pulling her into his lap when she moaned softly into his mouth. They were often forced to be discreet, having very few opportunities for private moments such as this, and had thus far been limited to stolen glances, secret kisses, and covert caresses. But Senator Amidala wasn't home this evening, and the young couple was eager to take advantage of that.

Their kissing became more exploratory as Anakin allowed his hands to be, cupping the young woman's firm buttocks, causing her to smile wickedly down at him. He had no idea how far this was going to go, but was willing to take it wherever Dormé wished.

Fate, it seemed, had other desires, as their alone-time was interrupted.

The Senator had come home early, wisely announcing her entrance with a loud cough.

"Senator!" Dormé announced excitedly, hopping off Anakin's lap, and over the couch with far too much energy for this time of night. "Do you remember that holovid I was telling you about? The one about the nurse falling in love with her patient?"

"Vaguely," the exhausted-appearing woman replied with far less exuberance than her friend.

"Anakin and I just finished it, and it was so sweet! You see, the main characters were caught up in this military action, and he got injured, was in a coma actually, and she was the nurse who took care of him! And they fell in love!"

"While he was in the coma?" Padmé asked skeptically. "How's that possible? They couldn't even speak!"

"The language of love requires no words," Dormé pined poetically, causing the Senator to look to the Jedi Padawan for assistance.

She loved the young woman dearly, but knew her friend could get carried away sometimes. Padmé wasn't sure how Anakin could put up with Dormé, but apparently he could. The two had been making out on her couch for nearly three months.

"Dormé, walk me to the door," Anakin suggested helpfully. " I've gotta back to the Temple before I break curfew or before Master Kenobi comes looking for me."

Anakin rose from his seat and tenderly grasped Dormé by her hand. Side by side they strolled across the plush carpeting, seeming to be in no hurry to part, which Padmé thought was sweet, actually. She was happy for them, truly she was, though sometimes…

"Anakin?" the senator's voice abruptly stopped the young couple in their tracks, surprising not only them, but herself. "Tell your Master I said hello."

* * *

 **A/N:** Ok, I'm mean, but that's just a teaser! I've learned in the past I am apparently not capable of focusing on two fics at one time, but for some reason, I wanted to toss this out there! I'll come back to it once The Last of the Jedi is complete.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 **The Wiles of Women**

With a touch of the Force, Anakin temporarily disabled the hallway monitor outside of Senator Amidala's door. He was certain Captain Typho was on duty and vigilantly watching his every move. For some reason, the senator's Head of Security didn't like him, and Anakin didn't know why. Not that he cared. However, he figured the Captain would not appreciate what was about to happen to the senator's aid.

He knew he was cutting it close. He would barely have time to make it back to the Temple before curfew. If he were late again, it would mean a demerit added to his record, plus a helluva strenuous sparring session with his Master the next day. He was up for it though, and had already considered the costs, deeming them worth it – even if just to spend a few more precious moments with her.

His tongue was moving languorously up the supple skin of Dormé's neck as she sighed contentedly, his hands on either side of her petite frame, imprisoning her against the foyer wall. She smelled of muja blossoms and…butter, most likely from the kernelpop they had consumed while watching that dreadful holovid of hers.

It wasn't long ago that he had discovered her most sensitive spot, just below and behind her ear, which he began nibbling on tenderly, expecting a response from her, although he ended up getting one he did not count on. Suddenly, she began talking. Not exactly what he'd been hoping for.

"I'm worried about the Senator," she started, her mind obviously distracted, although she intentionally moved her hair out of his way, he noticed with some humor. "You know she's crushing on your Master, right?"

"Mmmm," replied Anakin, his focus entirely on the raised flesh that abruptly appeared along her arm, which he began caressing with one hand, feeling a bit smug knowing he was the cause of it.

"She just seems so lonely all the time. I know that she's only working all these hours so she can keep her mind off it, which just concerns me all the more! She's wearing herself out!"

"Mm," Anakin mumbled as he listened, turning his focus upon pushing aside the strap of her sleeveless gown, revealing the soft, smooth skin of a lightly freckled shoulder. He drew his lips slowly down the slope from her ear to her neck, taking the time to plant a kiss or two along the way, eliciting yet another sigh from her, although it didn't keep her from speaking.

"She's too young and too beautiful to live a life alone. She deserves so much more. We have to do something about it! Does Master Kenobi ever mention her at all?"

"Mm hm," Anakin murmured, his mouth presently filled with collarbone.

"Was that a uh huh, or a huh uh?" she asked, forcing him to lift his face, though the temptation to kiss her was too overwhelming. She patiently waited on the indulgence, responding to his desire with a hand grasping his padawan braid, pulling him impossibly closer, their tongues dancing together.

"What was the question?" he uttered breathlessly after she released him. His brain had suddenly turned to mush.

"Does. Master. Kenobi. Ever. Mention. Her." Dormé repeated with exaggerated enunciation, seemingly annoyed, though with a spark of mischief in her eyes.

Anakin leaned once more against the wall, propping his head on his bent arm, turning her profile toward him so that he could gaze into her eyes. He might as well concentrate on the conversation. She apparently wasn't going to let this drop until he had.

"Sometimes," was the only answer he was going to offer at the moment, however. The truth was, his Master rarely spoke of Senator Amidala, except for the instances Anakin had brought her up in conversation. In fact, his avoidance made Anakin suspicious and believe that his mentor was hiding his feelings for Padmé. But Anakin wasn't about to admit that to Dormé. If he did, he was sure she would have him working full time as matchmaker, and frankly he wasn't interested in the job. He had always believed that destiny was just that. It was something that couldn't be forced. If his Master and the Senator were meant to be together, then they would be, without any assistance from outsiders.

He didn't think Dormé believed the same way, however, and so he kept his mouth shut.

"Thanks for the help," the young woman smirked, nudging him in the ribs before once more fingering his padawan braid, although this time with distracted intimacy. "I just wish there was some way to…"

Her eyes widened as she went silent – immediately alarming the young man. During their time together, he had quickly learned that when Dormé was speechless, it was never a good thing. She was either angry – meaning you'd better watch out for flying objects, or she was conspiring.

Since he hadn't done anything to irritate her, it meant an idea was being formulated.

"That's it!" she declared her epiphany. "Just like in the movie! This will work! I know it!"

"Wait a second," Anakin pleaded, gently grasping her bare upper arms. "I really don't think the two of them need us butting into their personal lives and don't even think about putting my Master into a coma."

Her smile was lovely, but it was also rather condescending, as she lifted a hand and patted his cheek in a patronizing manner, like his mother used to do whenever he asked to stay up past his bedtime.

"Leave everything up to me."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say," Anakin groaned. "Dormé, I really don't think the Senator is going to appreciate you interfering." And neither will his Master, Anakin knew for a fact. The man enjoyed his privacy.

"Ani," she pouted, her full lower lip protruding in a girlish, evocative way that began to crumble his resolve. His Master would not be very proud of his student's sudden lack of resistance. "I only want her to be happy," she continued sweetly, tiptoeing up to brush her mouth against his. "As happy as I am."

Dammit! That did it. He would do anything she asked now!

"Fine, but promise me nobody gets hurt." Or his Master would never forgive him!

"I promise there will be no permanent side effects. And no coma," she joked, kissing him thoroughly, while grabbing hold of his tunics. "Trust me," she commanded once she released him.

Actually, he did, and that's what he was afraid of.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 **Dinner Plans**

It had been several tens since Dormé had made mention of her desire to romantically attach his Master and her employer, and Anakin was beginning to think she'd possibly forgotten about it, although he doubted it. He could always hope.

He and his Master had actually been off planet most of that time, guarding a diplomatic envoy as it slowly made its way across the Outer Rim, and he was pleased to finally be back at the Temple. He was more pleased, however, to find Dormé there waiting for him

They had exchanged several communiques during his mission, but holoprojected images were quite inferior to the real thing, he discovered.

The young woman met him with an exuberant hug and kiss, which many of the passing Jedi frowned upon, although Anakin didn't care. He figured they were just jealous that somehow he had managed to capture the attentions of the most beautiful creature in Galactic City.

"Was it dangerous?" she immediately asked him following their embrace, her brow pinched with concern.

Anakin touched his forehead to hers in order to ease her anxiety and for other selfish reasons. He wished to maintain as much contact as he could get away with in public. "If you consider spending a month straight with a moody, highly irritable human male, dangerous," he answered with a smile.

"I thought the dignitary you were protecting was the representative from Rodia? He's not exactly human," Dormé pointed out, adding a playful wink.

"I was talking about my Master," Anakin joked, causing a pleasant chuckle to erupt from her, as he stepped back to take Dormé's hand and lead her to stroll in no particular direction.

Together, they made their way through the main hall of the Jedi Temple, past the copper monuments of fallen Jedi and the numerous, tall, marble support pillars. Initiates, Padawans, Knights, and Masters were all taking the same path, though not at such a leisurely pace, Anakin noticed. He imagined they all had somewhere important to be, and he was glad the Council had decided that he and his Master finally needed a break; 'some time to confer with the Force and connect with other Jedi,' their orders had stated.

He was indeed going to spend some time in negotiations, but not necessarily with the Force. Right now, he was actually trying to figure out a way to negotiate another kiss from her.

The opportunity came when a line of initiates walked past them, the last one in line intentionally shoving the one in front of him, causing a disruption of crying and tattling. Frustrated glances from stoic Masters and Knights were cast toward the interruption of the usually docile atmosphere, providing the opportunity Anakin was waiting for.

He immediately pulled the young woman behind one of the great stone pillars, and pulled her into an intimate embrace. She responded with eagerness, kissing him several times, but blushing afterward.

"Anakin." His name was spoken softly and with as much affection as he was feeling. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too." He added a caress to his confession before pulling her close again, although the ridiculous amount of dress she was wearing thwarted his efforts. "But I have good news. The Council's given us leave. I'll be on-planet for the next ten."

"Really? " Dormé bounced up and down excitedly, her hands framing his face, her lips pressing to his with a quick peck. "That's wonderful! Then perhaps…"

Somehow, he had just lost some of his exuberance. There was something shifting inside those deceptively innocent-appearing eyes of hers. Anakin mentally prepared himself for whatever she was about to say.

"We can all get together for dinner some evening, perhaps at the Senator's apartment? I'm sure she won't mind."

Well. That wasn't so bad. "Like a double date?" Anakin confirmed.

"Sure, unless Master Kenobi takes offense to the word. Maybe you can just call it a friendly gathering," the young woman suggested.

Which wasn't a bad idea. Surely, his Master wouldn't turn his nose up at a home-cooked meal with one of the only Galactic Senators who didn't annoy him. "I'll do my best," Anakin promised before noticing they were once again collecting disapproving glances. "Let me walk you home," he suggested.

"Before we go there, can we stop by Senate?"

"Working late again, is she?" Anakin asked while they headed toward the Temple exit, still hand in hand.

"You wouldn't believe the amount of hours she's already put in this week!" Dormé reported with concern. "I'm starting to worry about her health. She's not getting enough rest, she's barely taking the time to eat."

"I hope she agrees to dinner then," Anakin felt it necessary to add with this new information. "Will she even been in the mood to cook?"

"Ha!" the word exploded with incredulity. "I'm the one who does all the cooking!"

"I didn't know you knew how," he teased. Whenever he had been at the apartment, all they ever feasted on was each other. That, or kernelpop.

"Uh!" Dormé smacked his arm with mock irritation. "I will have you know, I make an astounding crab soufflé and sugarcrepes are my specialty."

Thank the Force, thought Anakin. He was so sick of nerf steak and mashed tubers!

* * *

 **A/N** : That last line is an inside joke to myself. Can't count the number of times I've used that particular menu in my stories! I definitely need to expand the boys' meal options!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The situation was almost comical, though Anakin tried his best never to enjoy another being's discomfort. It was just that he had never sensed this particular emotion in his Master before. The older Jedi always exuded such an aura of confidence and poise, courage and strength.

What Anakin was discerning as they rode the lift to Senator Amidala's apartment was none of those things. Could it be possible, his Master was nervous?

"Take a deep breath, Master. It's just dinner. You're not asking her to marry you."

"Very funny, Padawan. Have I mentioned how behind you are in Master Tso's Mandalorian Philosophy class? Your mid-term paper is due next week. Perhaps, we should cancel so I help you finish it. There's no better time than the.."

Anakin stopped his Master before he could utter one of his favorite and most over-used phrases. "Present, yes, I know. I also know, you wouldn't be so rude as to cancel dinner this late. Dormé tells me she and the senator have been shopping and cooking all day to prepare for it."

His words did very little to ease his Master's suffering, and the young man placed a comforting hand on his teacher's shoulder and offered him a comforting grin.

Anakin had never felt this way when meeting Dormé. Not even the first time. His attraction for her had hit him like a thunderbolt, and after she confirmed her similar feelings, they had quickly slipped into a comfortable, though fiery relationship. He knew her, he trusted her, and though he hadn't decided yet, he thought that maybe, one day, he would love her. But they were still young. They had plenty of time to decide the possibilities of their commitment to one another.

He was not his Master, though, and his Master's nervousness only proved one thing: the man obviously had feelings for the Senator, or he was worried about her cooking skills.

"Tell me again, why did she make this request?"

The lift had reached the twentieth level, Anakin noted. Only five more to go, and even though he had already shared the reason Dormé had created, he had time to explain one more time. "The senator is concerned with rumors of various Separatist factions working with the Neimoidians to take over trade routes in the Bothan sector, similar to what they did in Naboo. She would like to discuss your feelings regarding the matter."

Anakin immediately cast his gaze back up to the digital floor monitor just in case his Master doubted him. The young man had never been a very good liar and he knew it.

However, his Master seemed to have taken the bait, and uttered a short, surprised "huh," just before the lift door opened.

They were greeted warmly by Dormé, who managed to stop herself from performing a rather embarrassing display of intimacy – out of respect for his Master, of course. Anakin had requested it. His mentor didn't care too much for public displays of affection. Instead, she allowed a mere kiss to her hand, blushing when she received one from his Master as well.

"I'm glad you accepted the invitation, Master Kenobi. The Senator will be out in a moment. Please have a seat. Would you care for a drink?"

The greeting had come out fast, Anakin noticed. Dormé was nervous too, but why? He wondered.

"Thank you, but no," his Master replied, not surprisingly, while taking a seat in the common room.

"We've got Alderaanian brandy," Dormé tempted, at Anakin's earlier suggestion, since it was his Master's favorite alcoholic beverage. The man rarely imbibed, but Anakin and Dormé had already agreed, a drink would certainly relax his nerves.

"Maybe just a little," the older man finally gave in.

It was Padmé who brought in the refreshments, immediately bringing Obi-Wan to his feet.

"Good evening, Senator," the Jedi Master announced, bowing slightly.

"Please, no formalities this evening," the young woman gently scolded. "I want everyone to relax and have a good time. And my name is Padmé. Haven't we been over this before?"

They had, when they'd been assigned to protect the senator during her assassination attempt.

"You're right. My apologies, Padmé."

The Senator smiled sweetly at his Master, Dormé smiled at him, and Anakin thought the evening was going perfectly well. Especially when dinner was served. The food he forked into his mouth was nothing short of delightful. The Temple commissary never served anything like this!

"Are you sure you made this?" he asked Dormé between mouthfuls.

"Does that mean you like it?" She seemed unsure, when she had no reason to be.

"It's wonderful! Best thing I've ever put in my mouth. Well…almost," the young man teased, hoping his Master would miss the innuendo.

Dormé didn't and blushed furiously, while attempting to kick his leg underneath the table. She missed, however, striking her own shin instead.

"Are you okay?" the Senator asked when Dormé hissed in pain.

"Fine," she uttered, before sticking her tongue out at Anakin.

"I agree," his Master finally joined the conversation, apparently too engrossed in the tasty offerings to pay any attention to what was happening at the table. Which was a good thing.

"This is wonderful! My compliments to the chef." The older man's gaze and smile turned to Dormé, causing the young woman to blush yet again.

"Thank you."

Everyone was smiling and enjoying the food, as well as each other's company. That is, until his Master just had to change the subject.

"I've been told you would like to hear my opinions regarding the separatist's involvement with the Neimoidans in the Bothan Sector."

At first, the senator appeared confused, but then graciously recovered. "If that's what you wish to discuss, Obi-Wan, I would more than happy to."

It was his Master's turn then to look confused, and things would've gotten worse if Dormé hadn't suddenly jumped up from the table.

"Who's ready for dessert? Anyone? I've made dustcrepes. Two different flavors, actually. Senator, would like to help me bring them in? Let's eat them in the common room, actually, and I'll refill everyone's glasses as well."

Due to Dormé's quick thinking, the situation was once more brought under control, and they all moved back to their prior seating arrangements.

The dessert was even better than the main course, and the brandy flowed freely. The conversation was crafted by Anakin and Dormé to avoid any politics, mainly focusing on the comedic trials of training a padawan. It had actually turned into a pleasant evening, despite his Master's worries, with the possibility of a repeat performance.

And by the time his Master had decided they needed to take their leave, Anakin was confident they were off to a good start.

The two women escorted their guests into the senator's foyer, preparing to bid them a good evening. But when the senator took his Master's offered hand, a look of deep concern came over her face.

"Obi-Wan, you're burning up! Are you feeling ill?"

Anakin looked first to Dormé and could not read her reaction, and then to his Master, who did indeed seem flushed.

"I'll be fine," his Master replied, his balance suddenly tipping, which Anakin corrected with his own strength, holding the older man upright. "It started a few minutes ago. Must've been the brandy. I'm afraid I'm not used to drin…"

The statement wasn't completed before the Jedi slumped into his awaiting student's arms.

Anakin picked up his Master and promptly followed Padmé's advice to take him straight to her private suite. Once there, Anakin deposited his mentor onto the senator's bed, where she began doting on him, rushing to and fro from her bathing room to the bed, draping cool, wet towels across his forehead and face.

It was only then that Anakin realized Dormé hadn't followed them, and when he turned to see her casually leaning against the doorframe, he hated to admit, he wasn't very pleased with what he saw.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 **It's Not a Coma!**

While the Senator was busy doing all she could to make his Master comfortable, Anakin excused himself, promising to come right back. He had to have a word with Dormé and make sure he was reading his insights correctly.

"Step this way," he commanded as he took her arm, guiding her further away from the Senator's bedroom. "Please tell me you had nothing to do with this," he pleaded, spinning her around to face him, although her smug expression already answered his question.

"Don't worry. Everything's under control." Her sweet smile and doe-like innocence was not going to work this time! And when she brought up her hand to give him a patronizing pat on the cheek, Anakin stopped her; grabbing her by the wrist.

Maintaining some measure of control, the young man seethed between gritted teeth. "My Master is unconscious! He's burning up with fever! What did you do?"

"I promised you no one would get hurt, didn't I?" she argued, jerking away her wrist while the young man's eyes widened incredulously. "And that there will be no permanent damage? I believe I said those exact words."

He couldn't argue with that. Anakin actually did recall having that very conversation. But, come on!

"There will be no permanent side effects. He's just going to be off his feet for a while. And besides, you're always saying how Master Kenobi needs to slow down and relax a little. Now, he doesn't have a choice! You should be happy! Why are you looking at me like that? It's not a coma!"

His head was spinning. Was he ill too? Anakin wondered. If so, he deserved it!

The young woman's defense seemed justified, although a bit extreme. But then, as long as he'd known her, Dormé was often…intense.

Now that he thought about it, and since she'd mentioned it, he really could blame no one but himself! He knew what she was capable of, of what lengths she would go to get what she wanted – all while claiming it was for the benefit of others. Her heart was in the right place, just not her head!

"I'm just not sure this was such a great idea," Anakin calmly stated, keeping his voice quiet. He didn't want the Senator to overhear them. If she did, he wouldn't be surprised to find himself as a sudden hood ornament on one the vehicles whizzing by her balcony. "Couldn't you have thought of something better? Easier?"

"Easy isn't always best," the young woman replied confidently. Anakin groaned in preparation for the upcoming spout of Dormé-Philosophy. "Sometimes the most important lessons are the ones we learn the hard way."

She didn't often disappoint.

"Anakin, you wouldn't believe the trouble I've gone to in order to prepare for this evening! And I'm not talking about the meal! I've had to stretch myself pretty thin and take some big risks, and all for the sake of the Senator and Master Kenobi's happiness!" She began to pout, her lower lip protruding, and tears actually were forming in her eyes. At the sight of them, Anakin's anger began to recede. Just a little.

"Don't I get any credit at all?"

Ugh! This woman!

There was a mantra his Master had once taught him, Anakin thought would fit this situation, though he couldn't recall the words at the moment. And so, he just counted backwards from 10. A few times.

"Listen," he implored, searching her dark, anxious eyes. "I'm not blaming you. Not entirely. I was in on this too, although I'm not sure exactly what you've done. But promise me, Dormé. Promise me you'll fix this!"

The young woman sniffed and hesitantly drew him into her arms. Anakin relented and held her, while waiting for a reply.

"Everything is going to be okay!" she assured him softly. "Don't worry. And if by some chance, something bad happens, I'll come clean. I promise."

A knock on the Senator's front door prewarned Anakin that perhaps that certain 'something' Dormé was worried about might be happening with record speed.

Another knock sounded out while all he and Dormé seemed capable of doing, was to stand and stare at the door, prompting the Senator to emerge from her suite.

"Aren't you going to get that?" the woman muttered, the irritation of the situation and her aid's lack of assistance making her voice sharp. "Don't worry, I've got it."

"Got what?" Dormé was immediately on her employer's heels. "Who could be calling at such a late hour?"

"It's probably a healer from the Temple. I contacted the Jedi a while ago to send someone over to check on Obi-Wan."

Just as the Senator's hand reached for the door control, Dormé abruptly grabbed hold of it, stopping her, though causing a look of utter disbelief to appear on the other woman's face.

"You can't let them in," Dormé insisted, not releasing the Senator's wrist.

"And why not?"

Anakin realized he should step forward and provide some assistance, but discovered he was apparently frozen to the floor. Matters were worsening by the second, and he had the strongest feeling Dormé was about to incriminate herself.

"Because…" Dormé stammered, obviously not wanting to reveal what she'd done. This apparently wasn't part of her plan. "Because whoever is at the door will be exposed, that's why."

"Exposed…?"

Do you know how, during a severe thunderstorm when the blue skies darken and lightning bolts send everyone scampering for cover? That's how the Senator's countenance was, Anakin surmised. She was typically calm but concerned, her motions confident and her mind sure. She knew his Master needed help and had acted on her intuitions. Self-assured, confident, in control.

After Dormé's warning, however, the Senator's annoyance began to darken, her gaze infused with furious energy. When she spoke, it was with low, measured tones, and Anakin cast his gaze about the room in search of a good place to shield himself from the eruption he was sure was about to occur.

"What. Did. You. Do!"

"Now, Senator, don't get mad. It's just a little bug. Master Kenobi will be fine! Really!"

Once again, there was a knock upon the door, and Senator Amidala raised her hand to silence her employee, though her glare should've sufficed, Anakin thought.

"We'll talk about this later." The Senator's words were a promise, bordering on being a threat, and were spoken as she stepped to the side of the door and activated the security monitor.

Anakin decided it was safe to step forward at this point, and he looked at the monitor himself and noticed it was Healer Bant Erin who was standing patiently in the hallway.

"Healer Erin," Anakin took it upon himself to greet the Jedi, as he intentionally placed himself between the Senator and Dormé.

"Padawan Skywalker," the Mon Calamarian Jedi gurgled. "May I come in?"

"No!" Dormé stepped in front of him suddenly, her face and nose widening in a fishbowl effect on the monitor. "I'm afraid you can't. Master Kenobi is contagious."

"Perhaps I should be the judge of that," the Healer argued.

"I'm afraid not," Dormé answered back. "You're just going to have to take me at my word."

Healer Erin looked confused, her wide mouth grimacing with slight annoyance and confusion. After all, the hour was late, and now she was being kept from her duty.

"Tell her." The command came from Senator Amidala. It was concise and full of the authority her office provided. Dormé hesitated but a moment before submitting to it.

Huh, thought Anakin. He'd have to remember that particular tactic for the sake of future arguments.

"It's Plyridian fever."

The admission heralded a powerful punch from the Senator, which barely missed Anakin's ribs, though landed directly on its target, which was Dormé's left arm.

"Ow! M'Lady!"

"Don't even!" Padmé warned with a deadly glare. "You deserve so much more than that!"

"Plyridian fever?" the Healer repeated, her long, webbed fingers idly tracing her lower lip as she processed the information. "And just how did Master Kenobi happen to come in contact with such a rare contagion?"

When Dormé hesitated, the Senator stepped forward causing Anakin to step back. He was not about to get into the middle of a fight between these two women. He'd just get himself hurt!

"All right, all right!" Dormé acquiesced. "It was my fault. I exposed him to it! There, are you happy?"

"Why would you do such a thing?" the question was spoken by both Bant and Padmé concurrently.

"It's a long story. Do we really have to get into that right now? Shouldn't we be more concerned with making Master Kenobi comfortable?"

The huff which escaped the Senator's mouth was most likely due to the outrageous comment. She apparently was more interested in what the Jedi Healer had to say and chose to ignore Dormé for the moment.

"Gattis root is the only treatment I know of, and all it does is relieve some of the symptoms. I'm afraid the virus will simply have to run its course." The Mon Calamarian's face was even more discouraged than before, as all eyes shifted to focus upon the sole cause of all their worry.

"Gattis root. Got it. I mean, I'll get it!" Dormé announced in her defense.

"You do understand," the Healer's monitored voice drew their attention once more to the screen, "you will all be quarantined and will not be allowed to leave the apartment for any reason."

"For how long?" Senator Amidala asked, her face pinched with concern.

"The incubation period is four weeks. I'll contact the Council immediately. May the Force be with you."

With the rote farewell statement, Healer Erin bowed and stepped away from the monitor.

However, nobody was watching her departure. Instead, they were all staring at Dormé.

Poor Dormé, thought Anakin. It was nice knowing her. But she was dead. Senator Amidala had just killed her with one look.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 **Risky Ramblings**

She had returned to her room without even so much as looking at her assistant. She was so angry at the moment, Padmé thought it would be best not to speak. She would probably just say something she'd regret in the morning.

But of all the irresponsible, half-witted, foolish things to do! Committing biological warfare against a Jedi Master? What could Dormé possibly have been thinking? What had she hoped to accomplish? A life sentence in the Temple dungeon? Did the Temple have a dungeon? Would Obi-Wan press charges against her?

And what would she have done had Padmé not contacted the Temple Healer? Ignored it? Gone about her business and expose the entire city? Was the woman set on genocide?

Padmé massaged her temples in an effort to ward off the incoming headache. She had told Anakin they would discuss things further in the morning, so that she wouldn't lose her temper. She'd already struck Dormé once; there was no telling what she might do if the girl said one more idiotic thing!

Knowing her agitation had reached its peak, Padmé forced herself to put the situation out of her mind for the moment, which would've been easier were it not for the Jedi Master lying on her bed.

Following a quick inspection to make sure he was breathing regularly and his fever hadn't gotten out of hand, Padmé slipped away to her bathing room to prepare for bed. It was late, and if she were to face the inevitable difficulties of the next day, she needed to rest her mind.

Having cleaned her face and teeth, loosened her hair and changed her clothing, Padmé returned to the bedroom, carrying some clean, cool towels to wipe down Obi-Wan's brow. At some point, he had displaced the ones she had laid across his head earlier, and besides, they were too warm to do any good anyway. Tossing the used ones back toward the bath, she placed a new one down, quickly noticing his temperature had once again spiked.

Padmé recalled as a youth she had gotten similarly ill, and her mother made sure her feet and hands stayed warm, but her head and chest stay cool.

But to follow that bit of advice, she had to undress him. Surely, he wouldn't mind, Padmé thought, especially since he wouldn't know. He had yet to regain any kind of awareness.

"That Gattis root better get here soon," the young woman murmured as the struggled to unbuckle his boots, and then removed his heavy socks.

Just as she'd thought. His feet were ice cold!

At first, Padmé began rubbing them with her hands, but decided her efforts were not working quickly enough. She hesitated but a moment, glancing once more to his face to ensure he wasn't waking up, before lifting her nightgown suddenly and settling his frigid toes against the warmth of her belly.

The cold impact sent a shiver coursing through her, but this was the fastest solution. Soon, the coolness had seeped into her own body and was replaced with soothing warmth. Satisfied with the accomplishment, Padmé wrapped his feet with some of her own socks, then covered him with her thickest duvet. She then focused on warming other extremities.

For some reason, this act was far more intimate. These were the hands he worked with and trained Anakin with. They were used in battle, in peaceful negotiations, to wield a weapon, to shake hands with a friend. Padmé studied them as she worked the digits, suffusing her body's heat into each joint.

They were manly hands; thick knuckled and calloused. The nails were trim and clean, the backs coated with a fine copper down and a few sun marks. But they were still cold. She then held one to her face until it had warmed, and then the other to her neck to accomplish the same.

Once the task was complete, she tucked Obi-Wan in, and placed the cooling cloth onto his forehead. He still had not moved a muscle, though his pulse was steady and his breathing regular.

Padmé wished she would've asked the Healer a few questions while she had the chance, but the Jedi medic did say the illness had to run its course. All she had to do now was wait.

She just wasn't sure where to do it.

There was a lounge chair in the room which would suffice, Padmé decided, gathering some extra blankets from her closet. She settled on the seat as comfortably as she could, took one more glance at her visitor, and then fell asleep.

Hours later, Padmé was awakened by a noise. At first, she wasn't sure what she'd heard, but then remembered who was there and why he was there, and returned to her bed to check on his status.

Obi-Wan had kicked the blankets off at some point and was beginning to thrash. In the glowlight next to her bed, Padmé noted beads of sweat popping up on his brow. At first, she had been relieved, thinking his fever had broken, but when she checked, discovered it was just as high as before.

Disappointed and concerned, she began to rise in order to retrieve some more cool towels, only to be held fast by a powerful grip to her arm.

He had opened his eyes, but the whites were bloodshot and the pupils glazed. Padmé could tell just by looking at them, he was not yet himself.

"Don't go in there!" he muttered. His grip had loosened, although his eye movements became frantic. "Stay here…stay with me….don't…don't go.."

"Sh," Padmé spoke softly to ease Obi-Wan's feverish murmurings, pushing away the locks of damp hair off his forehead. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Did he even know who she was? Where he was?

"Padmé…" she heard him moan, having to lean forward to hear the rest. "Padmé, you're so..berful…"

What? The young Senator had to resist the urge to shake him, to make him repeat what he had mumbled so badly it was incoherent.

Instead, she resigned herself to benevolence although it was extremely difficult. "Sh," she hushed him once again, "rest Obi-Wan. You need to rest."

He did indeed close his eyes as she had suggested, only to pop them back open, repeating what he had said earlier, though this time with perfect clarity.

"You're so beautiful….My angel."

And then he passed out once again, and it was Padmé's turn to feel weak and flushed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

' **Arrested Development'**

A new day had dawned, although it did so without the benefit of preparatory rest. Disturbed by the situation and the events immediately following, Padmé had lay awake the rest of the evening, putting her in a relatively grumpy state of mind.

She refused to allow her aggravation to get the best of her, however. She was going to be civil about this, regardless of how she truly felt. She was a professional! A sworn representative of the Galactic Senate. She could be adult about this!

Apparently having heard her rustling around in the bedroom, Anakin called out to her and timidly began knocking upon her door. Having been dressed for hours, she immediately allowed him in.

"It's a Force thing," the young man explained, walking to the bank of windows to view the rising sun. "When we have those type of experiences in our sleep, they're typically visions; possibilities of future events or warnings of present or future. When I was a boy, I dreamed of becoming a Jedi. And here I am." Anakin turned from the window, revealing a proud grin. "What did he say?"

Padmé smiled warmly as she regarded the sleeping Jedi Master. How much should she tell? "He seemed afraid for me to leave the room; kept saying 'Don't go in there,'" she quoted, deciding at the last second, to omit the rest. Clearly, Obi-Wan had been hallucinating and couldn't possibly mean what he'd said. .

"He was probably warning you to stay away from Dormé," the young man chuckled.

"Speaking of, where is the little vixen?" Padmé teased, deliberately censoring herself. There were many other names which would suit her better this morning. A few came to mind as she adjusted the blankets on Obi-Wan one more time before leaving her bedroom, Anakin following closely behind her.

"Right here," Dormé answered the Senator's question, having already set their best chav set on the dining table, and was currently filling three mugs. She silently added sweetener and cream to two of them, intentionally leaving Anakin's black, which apparently was his preference.

Occasionally, her personal assistant would remind Padmé why she had not only hired her, but why they had become such close friends. Dormé was an exceptional human being, loyal to a fault, sympathetic to the needs of others, and a faithful friend. If she would only learn not to get so carried away! There was no excuse for what she'd done!

She was pleased, however, that a night's rest had apparently changed not only her own attitude, but her attendant's as well. They may actually be able to have a civilized conversation!

"Please, have a seat, Mi'Lady. Anakin, you may sit here," the young woman motioned to the chair between the two women – out of arm's reach, Padmé noticed. Smart move.

Once Dormé had seated herself, she folded her hands on the tabletop and began her recitation.  
"I know you're disappointed with me, Senator, but you must believe me when I tell you that I had a very good reason to do what I did. I was only thinking of you, of your happiness. And Master Kenobi's, of course."

The young Jedi sat quite still and silent, his focus entirely on his fingernails. He was obviously uncomfortable, and Padmé felt sorry for him.

She couldn't count the number of times Dormé had used a similar excuse for her occasional irresponsible behavior. When it came to professional matters, her assistant performed her duties perfectly. But when it came to personal affairs , where the young woman's ingenuity and creativity were allowed to run rampant, things would quickly and chaotically get out of hand, and more than once, all hell would break loose! Frankly, Padmé was tired of it. It was time Dormé owned up to the consequences of her supposed selfless acts.

However, instead of directing her chastisement to her female companion, Padmé focused upon the young Jedi seated at her table.

"Anakin, what does your Master do when you err in judgment? Make a decision that compromises not only the safety of yourself, but those around you?"

Without hesitation, the young man answered, as if he had already acquired a vast amount of knowledge on the subject. "Master Kenobi is a very strict disciplinarian, I'm afraid. In the past, I've received a variety of verbal reprimands as well as physical ones."

With his confession, the senator noticed (not without some delighted appreciation of her own) that Dormé's eyes had widened with worried surprise.

Anakin continued: "He usually increases sparring sessions by double. Once, he even made me handwrite and deliver a personal apology to the Arch Duke of Chibell after I'd….no need to go into the details. Let's just say, through my own neglect, I embarrassed my Master, and I had to make up for it."

Padmé slowly shifted her accusatory gaze across the table. Dormé was busily chewing on her bottom lip – a sure sign the young woman was nervous with anticipation concerning the sentence about to be handed down to her.

"First, let me address this situation as a friend," the Senator began, noticing a slight decrease in her aid's apprehension. "Dormé, I know you meant well, and I appreciate your concern for my happiness. It shows a level of care and compassion I value in our friendship. I love you, as much as I love a member of my own family. We've been through a lot together and I hope we will share many more years to come."

When it appeared as if the young woman was about to speak, Padmé silenced her immediately with a raised finger and continued.

"However, as your employer, I can honestly say I would have never, ever thought you could do something as irresponsible and underhanded as deliberately and maliciously causing the illness of another being! It was a thoughtless and inconsiderate thing to do! Not to mention, selfish!"

"Now, wait just a minute," Anakin cut in, immediately bringing himself into a conversation Padmé was trying so hard to keep him out of. As far she knew, Anakin was an innocent bystander.

"You can say what you want – and I don't disagree with most of what you've said…."

From across the table, Padmé heard a loud grunt of disapproval as the young man continued undeterred.

"But you can't sit there and say that Dormé's motivations were selfish! She told me just the other day how worried she was about your state of mind, your health and all. She said you were working too hard and needed someone in your life to…"

"The other day?" Padmé interrupted, silencing the young Jedi, whose face suddenly turned a shade darker. "Anakin, did you know about this?"

"He didn't know anything, Mi'Lady," Dormé quickly answered in his defense. "This was all my idea and my doing."

"I did agree with you though," Anakin confessed directly to Dormé, "and I didn't try to stop you. In a way, I'm just as guilty."

"You don't have to do this," she pleaded with him, while Padmé sat back and observed the couple with heightened interest.

"Yes I do," Anakin shot back.

"Why?"

The young man's face reddened further, even as he sat up taller, obviously strengthening his resolve. "Because I care about you. I lo…love you."

He had awkwardly stuttered the phrase, Padmé noticed, but that made little difference to Dormé. As soon as the declaration had been made, her aid was immediately out of her seat and had thrown herself into the Anakin's lap.

Padmé basically threw up her hands. So much for her interrogation!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

" **Answering Nature's Call"**

Anakin had no intentions of confessing his feelings for Dormé, but the truth was, Senator Amidala made him nervous. And he'd been concerned for Dormé's safety. His idea had worked actually, but it was more than just a ruse. He wouldn't play with her feelings in that way. He was ecstatic, however, when she seemed overjoyed over his declaration, planting himself in his lap, kissing him repeatedly. He wasn't sure how long the Senator had stuck around, but when Dormé finally allowed him to catch his breath, the other woman had gone.

"Did you mean it?" Dormé asked, her smile bright, her eyes twinkling. Anakin couldn't help but be infected with her delight.

"Of course," he smiled before noticing a rapid change in her countenance. She looked worried all of a sudden.

"It's just that, we haven't been seeing each other for very long. I mean…is it okay if I'm not sure? I really care about you, Anakin, but I'm not sure if I'm, like, in love with you. Is that okay?"

He couldn't pretend her confession didn't disappoint him, but there was still hope. He would just have to keep pestering her for a while longer – until she made up her mind.

"Don't' worry," he assured her by kissing her neck. "You'll know when you know. We're not in a hurry."

"Again," she suggested throatily in his ear.

"We're not in a hurry?" Anakin breathed against her neck before being thumped on his head.

"No, silly! Kiss my neck like you were doing before."

Anakin eagerly obeyed the command before hearing his name. At first, it sounded muffled and desperate, and he concentrated his efforts, but realized quickly, his name was actually being yelled out and from another room. Something was wrong!

He stood quickly, dumping Dormé off his lap, before rushing into the Senator's bedroom, where he found the woman holding up his Master, who was quite unsteady on his feet.

"He's up!" she announced while struggling to keep him upright.

"Padawan…padawan…" the older man blubbered as Anakin took over, reaching around his Master to support his weight, giving the Senator some relief. "Padawan….." Obi-Wan repeated yet again.

"Yes, it's me," the young man pointed out strongly, although he wasn't sure his Master had any idea what was happening, or what he was saying. His skin was still hot to touch and his eyes were glassy. "You need to get back in bed, Master. Here, let me help you."

"No!" Obi-Wan stated loudly, before reaching for his crotch. "Padawan….I need to relieve myself!" he hissed, apparently trying to be quiet, although what he achieved was the opposite. "You know…use the head, visit the loo, take a leak?" The man paused, actually beginning to giggle. Anakin had never heard his Master giggle before. Ever! "Anakin, I've got to piss!"

"Okay, okay, Master." The young man thought he'd better put a stop to this before someone got embarrassed – mainly, himself!

"Do you need some help?" he heard Padmé ask as he basically hefted his Master's dead weight across the room.

"I've got it," Anakin assured the Senator, recalling a similar situation on a mission, although his Master was unconscious and carrying him away was a matter of life and death. "I'll use the Force if I have to," he told her.

Anakin managed to assist his mentor with his own strength, until Obi-Wan actually began the process, that is. Senator Amidala's apartment was expensively decorated and immaculately clean. The young man didn't want his Master making a mess.

With a minimal amount of direct observation and a slight amount of Force application, Anakin made sure everything ended up where it was supposed to. He was awkwardly trying to help the man dress, when Obi-Wan began his mutterings again.

"Where's Padmé?"

"She's in the other room, Master,"

"She's nice."

"Yes, she is."

"She's an angel. Didja know that? I saw her wings."

"Is that so?" Is patronizing someone actively hallucinating a good idea? Anakin wondered. He'd have to ask Healer Erin sometime.

The Senator offered her help once they had returned to the bedroom, and she ushered Obi-Wan back to the bed, where he fell bonelessly, one leg dangling off the edge. Padmé moved it onto the mattress, then tucked his Master in. She then offered him a glass of water, which his mentor drank greedily from while his intense, dilated gaze never moved from her face.

"There you go," she soothed with a gentle voice. "Try and get some rest. We'll have some medicine for you soon, and you'll feel better, Obi-Wan. I'll make sure of it."

Anakin watched with increasing interest as the Senator lovingly swept aside the copper fringe off his Master's brow, smiling sweetly at his mentor as she did so.

"Did you see them?" Obi-Wan turned his gaze toward his student at that moment. "They're white and fluffy."

The Senator rotated her head and looked at him as well, a question lifting her brow. "Wings?"

"How did you know?" Anakin asked. He was actually about to suggest his Master was having hallucinations of bunny rabbits.

"He mentioned an angel earlier," she answered before applying a soothing touch to his Master's brow, wiping the man's forehead with a fresh, cool cloth, causing Obi-Wan to drift back to sleep.

It occurred to Anakin, there was something vaguely familiar about this scene, almost as if he were experiencing a déjà vu moment.

And then he remembered. The holovid. Although he couldn't remember all the details, he couldn't forget the way Dormé had gone on and on about it.

There was something going on between his Master and the Senator!

Son-of-a-sith! Dormé was right! He'd have to be sure not to tell her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

' **Jedi Snuggie'**

A restless night had not only made Padmé irritable, but tired; the kind of tired that seeps into your joints and creates a burning ache in your muscles. Or she was simply sore from attempting to sleep on her lounging sofa. In either case, all she wanted to do was lie down on her own bed and get some decent rest.

But there was a problem. There was a Jedi in her bed. Perhaps…

Quietly, the young woman checked Obi-Wan's status. He was sleeping soundly. Surely, thought Padmé, surely he wouldn't notice if she lay down on the opposite side of the bed, if she didn't move, didn't disturb him…he would never know.

Several minutes later, the young woman gathered her courage. Moving carefully and slowly, she allowed herself to sink into the mattress, watching Obi-Wan closely as she did so. Once settled and satisfied to discover she had not awakened him, Padmé allowed herself to drift. Sleep claimed her quickly.

She wasn't sure when it had happened, how it had happened, or why, but at some point, one of them had moved.

At first, she had felt incredibly cozy and safe – like being wrapped in a warm blanket, but as awareness settled, Padmé remembered she hadn't gotten under the blankets.

And then she came full awake, although she didn't move. She couldn't move. Obi-Wan had wrapped himself around her, and in her sleeping state, apparently, she hadn't refused the embrace. Through some miraculous maneuverings, she had somehow ended up with her back pressed firmly against his chest, one of his muscular arms currently being used as a pillow for her head, while the other was securely about her middle. Even one of his legs had been bent at the knee and was lying on top of her own, essentially imprisoning her in a cocoon of strength and comfort. She had never felt more secure, even when surrounded by a half dozen of her best and most loyal bodyguards. Padmé was aware that even in his drowsing and feverish state, Obi-Wan was a tightly-wound spring of power, strength, and courage, ready to protect her life at any cost. As he'd already done in the past. Twice.

Thoughts of moving had already evaporated in the light of the Coruscant sunlight, which was doing its best to infiltrate the blinds she had drawn earlier, casting ribbons of light and shadow across her bedspread. The intimacy of the moment was alarming to Padmé in the light of day; Obi-Wan's steady breath against her neck, the powerful arm pressed against her belly, and yes, the firmness pushing into the small of her back. She may be a virgin, but she wasn't naïve.

The awareness of his reaction, however, heightened all her senses; every point his body was touching hers, Padmé mapped into her conscious thought, until the prolonged close examination and study began to dull those senses. Sinking back into the comfort and safety Obi-Wan provided, Padmé allowed herself to close her eyes, and surrender to the weariness which had not yet left her.

When she opened her eyes again, the view wasn't nearly as tranquil, and it quickly erased the smile of contentment from her face.

"I have good news, Mi'Lady."

The grin which Dormé wore was one of pride and smugness. If she could move, Padmé would've pulled on her aid's dangling braid until it went away. A childish, gesture, but it would've made her feel better.

"The Gattis root is here."

In her extended hand, the young woman presented what looked to be a twisted and blackened stem. It was covered with dirt and white mold, and looked absolutely disgusting. But she knew how important it was to Obi-Wan's health. Important enough to put an end to the fantasy she had been enjoying all afternoon.

Without thought to disturbing her guest, Padmé squirmed from beneath Obi-Wan's arm and leg, grabbed the root, exited her bedroom and headed straight to the kitchen. She boiled water, crushed the root, and deposited it directly in the pot. Once the liquid had foamed and turned a ruddy shade, she removed the pot and poured the concoction into one of her delicate teacups. One from the set her mother had given her when she had left Naboo.

The drink was foul-smelling, but she was going to get it down him, no matter what she had to do!

Anakin had joined her when Padmé returned to her bedroom, carrying the cooling treatment in its delicate container. The young man lifted his Master to lean forward and tilted his head back while Padmé attempted to wake him.

"Obi-Wan, here, drink this. It will make you feel better."

His first reply was a mere grunt.

"Come on, Master. It only smells bad. Besides, we've had to drink worse."

"Pinch his nose shut. That's what my mother used to do to me."

Anakin actually seemed to be considering Dormé's unheeded advice, his brows lifting suggestively.

"Don't you dare," Padmé warned. "He's not a child."

"If it will do the trick…" her aid's voice moved closer as Dormé approached, and leaned over the bed.

"Here. Let me," Anakin volunteered, forcing the man's mouth open with his free hand, which only resulted in part of the drink coming back out as quickly as it had gone in; a spewing fountain which struck Dormé in the face.

Padmé had been raised in a respectful household, and therefore, she held her tongue. Anakin, on the other hand, chuckled loudly.

"Okay, okay," the young assistant admitted, wiping her face with the sleeve of her gown. "I admit I probably had that coming."

Padmé allowed a grin to lift her mouth, but offered no comment, although she agreed with the woman wholeheartedly. "Obi-Wan, look at me."

Slowly and hesitantly, one gray-green eye was revealed, and then the other. Padmé smiled sweetly at him. "Drink this. It will help. Do it for me."

A moment or so passed as she held his gaze, until finally his lower lip dropped and he opened his mouth.

Obi-Wan's face skewed as he swallowed the vile liquid, and remained that way as Anakin lowered him back onto the bed, although he had apparently fallen back asleep.

"One question," the senator asked her assistant. "How did you get that root so fast? It's my understanding, it's pretty rare."

"I have my…."

Dormé was unable to finish her sidestepping statement once she had been knocked down a peg or two by her employer's glare.

"Fine," the young woman groaned. "There's this herbal shop down by Dex's. Actually, a bit further down," she added quietly.

"How much further?" Padmé asked. She wanted to know because she had to confirm her suspicions. Perhaps Anakin would be able to curb Dormé's risky behavior. One of these days, the girl was going to get herself into big trouble!

"Down by clow vrnmn mmbrm tserr,"

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Her aid's dark eyes rolled skyward. "Cloud Nine Apothecary at Madame Toussar's, okay?"

As she had hoped, Anakin stepped forward then, grabbing the young woman by her arms. "Dormé, are you insane? That's close to the Portals! There's nothing down there but spice dealers and pleasure workers! It's dangerous!"

"I know how to take care of myself! And it wasn't for me, anyway! It was for your Master!"

The Jedi Dormé had just made reference to moaned, causing Padmé to immediately usher the noisy couple out of her bedroom. While she shoved on them, they continued arguing, even after she had pushed them through the door, sealing it shut behind them.

She didn't regret forcing Dormé to confess where she'd gotten the Gattis root. Although, she was glad to have gotten it, there had to have been another, safer way to go about it. Hopefully, Anakin could talk some sense into the young woman. She'd never been able to.

She could hear them arguing although it seemed they had moved further away from her bedroom. Still, Padmé thought it might not be such a bad idea to have a locking mechanism installed on this particular door.


	10. Chapter 10

(pointless random sentence to take up enough space to center the chapter title below…because I HAVE TO!) ;-)

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

' **An Unexpected Turn'**

Hunger pangs drove Padmé from her suite, forcing her to enter the common area, where she found Anakin and Dormé fondling upon the sofa. Hadn't they just been screaming obscenities at one another just a few minutes ago? Amazing.

She cleared her throat loudly as she passed, not wishing to embarrass either of them, although it took a few seconds to detangle their limbs.

"How's my Master?" Anakin asked once his tongue had been freed.

"Still sleeping," the senator answered, entering the kitchen, which opened directly into the common room, allowing their conversation to continue uninterrupted.

"How long does that stuff take to work? I thought it would've by now."

"What I want to know," Padmé replied as she rummaged through the cooling unit in search of the leftovers from their dinner the other night, "is how you got it here? We are under quarantine."

"She had it all along," the young man answered.

How very thorough of her, thought Padmé. When it came to her duties as a personal assistant, Dormé had always been a stickler for details. "Then why didn't you give it to Obi-Wan earlier?" She popped the remaining soufflé into the oven and set the reheating controls.

"Because," the young woman paused. "I misplaced it."

Padmé didn't even bother looking up, and continued to stare at the dish rotating inside the oven, which was beginning to bubble as it warmed. There was nothing Dormé could say at this point which would surprise her.

"It took me a little while to remember where I put it."

"Which was….where?" Padmé prompted, grabbing a padded mitt to remove her dinner.

"Inside your speeder, which I parked outside next to the portico the last time we used it."

"Don't tell me you went out…"

"No, I certainly did not!" Dormé insisted as she stepped up to the kitchen doorway while defending herself. "Anakin used that Force trick thingy he does and hovered it over to the door. All I did was reach out and grab it."

Padmé shook her head and plopped down in a chair at the table, although the food no longer seemed very appetizing. She toyed with the crust, flicking it around the plate with her fork. The more she learned about this mess Dormé had put them in, the less pleased she was about it. And she couldn't imagine what Obi-Wan was going to say when he found out what Dormé had done to him! How was she ever going to explain?

"Mi'Lady? Are you all right?"

There was deep concern in her aid's voice, creating a chink in Padmé's armor, and causing her to lift her gaze. Dormé may be the most conniving and sneaky assistant to ever inhabit the system, but she was still her friend, and she loved her dearly, regardless of her many faults.

"I'm fine, just worried."

"Don't worry, Senator," the young woman grinned, though her face also exhibited shadows of stress and fatigue. "I'm sure the Gattis root will take effect soon and he'll begin to feel better."

Stars, she hoped so, although Padmé was sure there would be hell to pay.

She managed to finish half of her meal in peace, washed the dishes she had used and had put them away when Dormé hailed her from the common area.

"What now?" the Senator muttered as she dried her hands and joined her.

The expression Dormé wore though, caused the young woman to pause. The girl almost appeared fearful.

"What is it?"

"There's someone on the comm for you, Mi'Lady," she announced. "It's Master Windu!" she added with a conspiratorial whisper.

Padmé fixed the wayward strands of her hairstyle and straightened her gown before she sat down at the comm station. In past dealings with this particular Jedi, she had done her best not to appear intimidated, even though she often felt that was exactly what Master Windu wanted her to be. She answered the comm, managing to smile confidently, although her insides were beginning to churn.

"Greetings, Master Windu. I assume you are contacting us with regards to Master Kenobi?"

"Good afternoon, Senator Amidala. Your assumptions are correct. Healer Erin has informed the Council of Master Kenobi's unfortunate exposure to a rare virus. I hope that his presence has not inconvenienced you."

Padmé glanced over the top of the comm to catch Anakin's eye. The young man couldn't understand the Council member's attitude either. Had Healer Erin intentionally withheld information? However unlikely that seemed, apparently Master Windu was not aware of her employee's sabotage.

"We are under quarantine for another three weeks."

"Yes, I have been informed of that. An inconvenience indeed. My apologies if Master Kenobi is causing you any trouble. I'm afraid he has quite the reputation in the Healer's Ward for being a rather…reluctant patient."

Padmé barely refrained from grinning like an idiot. She could see Obi-Wan stubbornly refusing assistance of any type – for the simple reason he didn't wish to inconvenience anyone. In that way, they were very much alike.

"Actually, he's doing quite well," she lied, though she felt it was a minor infraction.

She wasn't sure if Master Windu was trying to bait her into revealing some information or if he really didn't know what had happened. However, if the older man was going to play games, she could do the same. Padmé was pretty sure this was something she was better at anyway.

"Plyridian Fever is quite rare. The Council has made inquiries with the delegates he and his Padawan have come in contact with during their most recent missions, and not one case has been reported. Neither the Healer nor the Council have any idea how Master Kenobi could've been exposed to a host."

Padmé had the strongest urge to bite her fingernails, and promptly placed her hands beneath her thighs. Windu was fishing. That, she was certain of. Well, he wasn't going to catch anything today!

"I'll be sure to contact the Council in regards to Obi-Wan's condition and recovery at regular intervals. Thank you for contacting us. Amidala out."

Before even offering the man a chance to respond, Padmé ended the transmission, her present company appearing as bewildered as she felt.

"This is going better than I anticipated," Dormé declared smugly, a comment which Padmé ignored. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Instead, she addressed Anakin.

"Is it possible, Healer Erin didn't inform the Council that Obi-Wan was intentionally exposed to the virus?"

The young man pondered the explanation for Master Windu's strange line of questioning, his arms crossing over his chest. "I admit I don't know Healer Erin all that well, but apparently she and my Master were very close friends during their Academy years. I believe they've known each other since the creche."

If that were true, thought Padmé - if this healer named Bant, had actually withheld information during a Council interrogation simply to protect Obi-Wan in some way, Padmé's opinion of her just improved dramatically.

When all this was over, she would like to get to know Bant Erin better, Padmé decided.


	11. Chapter 11

(Random pointless sentence to create a space which makes chapter title below show up centered. Because it bugs me if it isn't!)

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

 **"The Sleeping Giant Awakens"**

A civil conversation was in order. The time for accusations and complaining was past. Surely, thought Padmé, she could manage to put aside her extreme difference of opinion regarding this matter to enjoy the company she was being forced to keep. The truth was, she loved Dormé like family, and she liked Anakin as well.

But Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan was an entirely different subject. She had always admired and respected him. She definitely liked him, but her feelings went a little deeper than just friendly admiration, although she wasn't sure of their depth. It was something she needed to study - when she had a moment to herself, that is. Presently, the two sets of eyes which were locked onto her were making her uncomfortable. Someone needed to say something and soon. The silence between them was coming close to being awkward.

"The other day, I was forced to, uhm, borrow a speeder and it was the sweetest ride! Did I mention that to you, Dormé?"

Padmé appreciated Anakin's attempt at small-talk, although the particular topic was not of much concern to her. Dormé, however, seemed intrigued. Padmé imagined the Jedi could talk about bantha poodoo and the young woman would be fascinated with every syllable that came out of his mouth.

Is that what true love is, the Senator wondered? After watching the couple grope each other on her sofa for the past few weeks, she had initially believed the two were merely in lust. Now, she wasn't so sure. Although they bickered and complained quite often, at other times such as this, they looked completely enamored. It was a balance of sorts, Padmé supposed, but not something she would like to be a part of.

She had always imagined being in love would be like negotiating in the Senate. Even when there were disagreements, a settlement could be accomplished through a sharing of ideas, concerns, and compromising; something which maturity and respect for a colleague demanded.

It didn't mean screaming in anger at a person one moment and then kissing them senseless the next. That wasn't love. It couldn't be. She didn't know exactly what that was.

Unless there were different kinds of love, and who was she to label it? To put love into a neat little, organized compartment? Until she had experienced it herself, she had no right to define it or judge those caught in its grip.

Or maybe she was just jealous. The shocking thought came unbidden to Padmé's mind. Perhaps what bothered her most about Anakin and Dormé wasn't the instability of their relationship, but the fact that they couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other.

What would it feel like to be desired and devoured like that? Padmé honestly didn't know. As a young girl, she had only one experience with love; with a young man who had signed up with the Refugee Relief Movement with her. They had spent a lot of time together assisting others through the program, and she had believed herself to be in love with him. But after a time, they had discovered their goals were not the same, and eventually decided to break up. Her first and last romance, she was ashamed to admit. They had never even kissed.

And then there was Obi-Wan. Padawan Kenobi – the handsome, young Jedi who had so courageously joined her in battle and saved Naboo. Although her handmaidens had counseled her and defined her feelings as a crush, Padmé hadn't been so sure, although it mattered very little. He was gone out of her life almost as quickly as he had entered it. Time and duty took care of the rest, stealing away all but the occasional thought of him, until the fateful day he showed up at her door.

What had she said then? Oh yeah, something stupid about it being a long time since she had seen him, when all she really wanted to do was throw her arms about his neck and make a fool of herself.

"Isn't that right?"

She hadn't been listening and could only vaguely recall Anakin mentioning something about an HKT44 modified speeder which was painted yellow.

"I'm not at liberty to say," the Senator answered her aid. "I'm afraid my mind was drifting."

A look was exchanged between the two sitting across from her which Padmé couldn't clarify. It was probably a secret message regarding an inside joke the two of them shared – one which she really didn't care to hear at the moment. She had heard Dormé's jokes before and although they were funny, they often bordered on being obscene.

"If I weren't a Jedi, I wouldn't mind owning one of those myself. " She tried to focus as Anakin continued, though her mind began to drift yet again.

Maybe she should go check on Obi-Wan. He may have kicked the covers off, or maybe the medicine had started to work and he'd be waking up. He would need help, as well as an explanation. She should excuse herself and go check on him.

"Padawan?"

The call coming from her bedroom was unexpected and stopped the dull conversation completely, immediately prompting Anakin to hop up from his seat and bolt toward her suite. Padmé and Dormé stood as well, though neither made any attempt to follow the young man.

"Should we go in there?" Dormé posed the obvious action.

"Let's give them some time," Padmé nervously suggested. She wasn't hearing any yelling – though she imagined Obi-Wan never raised his voice. All she could hear was a low rumble of a familiar voice speaking words she couldn't make out no matter how hard she tried.

It seemed as if an hour had passed before Anakin made his appearance in the common room. It wasn't relief showing on his face, as Padmé had expected to see though, it was apprehension.

Was Obi-Wan angry? Of course he was! How could he not be?

"My Master is awake and is lucid," the young Jedi explained. "He would like to speak with…"

Here it comes, thought Padmé. Obi-Wan was going to basically vent all his frustrations on her, but she could take it. Dormé and Dormé's actions were her responsibility after all. She would walk into that room and patiently listen to whatever Obi-Wan had to say; respectfully, and apologetically. She owed him that much.

"…Dormé." Anakin finished.

"Me?" her assistant squeaked.

"Afraid so," the Jedi Padawan uttered, offering no further support, other than a wink as Dormé brushed past him, walking with dread as if she were heading toward her executioner.


	12. Chapter 12

(Spacer sentence placement in this location. Right here. So that my world will be more organized.)

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve**

" **Deferred Judgment"**

Dormé entered the bedroom slowly and with heavy trepidation. She knew Obi-Wan Kenobi as a strict Jedi Master, devoted to justice, loyal to the Jedi and the Republic, and one who allowed his Padawan very few indulgences. If it were within the man's power, she would imagine he would forbid his Padawan to participate in any type of romantic entanglement. As far as she knew, there was no law against it. However, there had been occasions Anakin had cancelled a few of their dates due to his Master's disapproval. Eventually, the young man had apparently worn down his Master's reticence, and Dormé thought Obi-Wan had actually learned to accept their relationship.

Looking at him now with his grim face of discontent, she wasn't so sure.

"Have a seat, Dormé," he firmly suggested, motioning to the lounge chair he obviously made Anakin bring over to the side of the bed – within swatting distance, Dormé noticed. Although the man looked positively drained, his pale torso leaning against the bolster behind the bed, she thought it best to keep her guard up. She did as she was told, although keeping as much distance between herself and this venerable Jedi as she could.

"My Padawan has been kind enough to update me regarding the details of my current….situation," he began, with an unexpected politeness. "Plyridian fever, is it? "

"Y…yes sir," the young woman confirmed, her eyes wide, not sure what to expect.

"Are you aware of the side effects of such a contagion?"

Was he questioning her research abilities? She had done her homework! "Why yes, I happen to know that…"

"No," the Jedi Master silenced her with the single syllable. "I don't think you do. This virus has the potential to attach itself to midichlorian cells, effectively dampening Force senses. In some cases, it has rendered Force users such as myself, helpless, without the ability to use the Force at all. Are you understanding what I'm saying?"

Dormé was vaguely aware her mouth had dropped open at some point, and that she was gawking at him, but the information he had just shared was so outlandish! It couldn't be true!

"That's not what my informant told me," she defended herself. Did the man actually think she would do that to him? On purpose? "High fever, unconsciousness, and quarantine. That's all he said would happen."

"And who would this informant be?" Obi-Wan questioned in a stately and relatively calm manner.

She had made a deal she couldn't break! No one could know how she had obtained the virus. What if she needed to use his services again in the future?

"I'm not at liberty to say," Dormé announced bravely.

The gray-green part of the Jedi's eyes narrowed dangerously as he leveled at her what was definitely a glare. "Then maybe you're aware that the Jedi have ways of making people talk?"

He wouldn't! He couldn't! If his Force abilities were effected as he claimed, then he couldn't use it against her…could he?

As the thought crossed her mind, Obi-Wan's hand lifted from his lap, and suddenly, the hilt of his weapon came flying across the room, smacking against his palm. When it did, Dormé's pulse quickened substantially.

Okay, maybe he could.

"Just a minute, Master Kenobi! I had no idea the virus would do that kind of damage! Or I would've never used it! Honest!"

The lightsaber hilt was gently laid in his lap, a brow lifted, opening his eyes to their normal shape. "Then why?" he sincerely asked. "Why would you do such a thing? Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed the rest, but I've had the most strange hallucinations and my dreams lately…I just don't understand. Enlighten me, please. What would possess you to do this to me?"

There was a durasteel weight forming in the pit of her stomach, and no matter what her motivations had been, and how much she had believed in them, Dormé was being overcome with guilt. She could no longer look at the man's face, and instead, focused on her stockinged feet.

"I wanted the Senator to be happy," she admitted quietly and reluctantly.

"By poisoning me? How was that going to make her happy?"

His voice was lifting in tone and volume, raising Dormé to her feet. She could not sit still and talk about this at the same time!

"Because!" she explained as she paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. "Because if she had to take care of you, to nurse you back to health, perhaps she would finally admit how much she cares about you! Just like in that movie Anakin and I watched. Because, as you and I both know, you never stay put long enough for anyone to get to know you! You're always on the go! And even when you're here, you're not! You're so aloof and mysterious! You left Naboo without so much as a goodbye or 'see you later!' And how many years has it been? Ten? And not a single word!"

"What are you talking about?"

Confusion had knitted the Jedi Master's brows, causing Dormé to bite her tongue. He actually didn't know, did he? He didn't know how much the Queen of Naboo had cared and worried about him after the death of his Master, after he had been given a Padawan, much too soon in her opinion. How the young woman had wondered for years how he was doing, if he ever even thought about her.

Obviously, he hadn't.

She should just shut her stupid mouth, but it was too late. Dormé realized she had already said too much. There was no way Master Kenobi was going to let her stop talking now. She might as well let him have it. Both barrels.

"There's no way you can convince me that when you were on Naboo, you had no idea how much she cared about you. It was so obvious! Everyone knew it! Are you possibly that dense?"

"I beg your pardon! And please sit down, you're making my eyes hurt."

The young woman did as requested, though with a huff of disappointment. This wasn't going so well. Perhaps she should shut up after all, Dormé decided, propping her head heavily onto her hand while she waited for her words to sink into that thick skull of his. Which took longer than she thought it would. Several minutes passed as she waited.

"Let me know if I'm understanding this correctly," he began slowly as if someone were messing with the dimmer switch, "but what you're saying is Padmé developed a crush on me during my mission to Naboo? That was over ten years ago!"

"Indeed," the young woman agreed, "and it was more than just a crush Your Jedi Masterfulness."

"No, this is ridiculous. She was 14!"

"And now she's 24," Dormé pointed out, "and I'm pretty sure her feelings haven't changed. Possibly, may have increased, but that's not for me to say. Although distance can make the heart grow fonder..."

Once again, the man became sullen, apparently mulling over this new information. "No, that can't be true," he muttered, seemingly to himself, though loud enough for Dormé to hear. "She would never…"

"I've already said too much," the young woman announced suddenly, rising to her feet, a newfound confidence strengthening her resolve. The Jedi looked positively bewildered, and in this situation, that was a particularly good thing! "I'll be leaving now so you can get some rest," Dormé noted as she walked toward the doorway, pausing to turn back around once she had reached it.

"By the way, you spooned her yesterday."

"What?" The Jedi Master flummoxed. "I did what?"

"Spooned her," Dormé repeated with more enunciation. "You know…snuggled, burrowed, cuddled…whatever you want to call it. I couldn't have squeezed a space slug between the two of you if I'd tried. And the way you were smiling in your sleep….it was so sweet." She paused deliberately and released a sigh. " I'll see you later."

"I…"

More than satisfied with herself, Dormé bounded from the suite, a broad smile on her face. Both Anakin and the Senator, however, looked nearly as confused as Master Kenobi.

"Well?" they both asked her.

"How did it go?" the Senator pried.

"Just fine." Dormé radiantly replied. "Perfectly, wonderfully fine!"


	13. Chapter 13

(SPACER)

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen**

" **Assistant, Matchmaker, Secret Agent"**

It took a couple of hours before Padmé felt comfortable enough to interrupt Obi-Wan's privacy, even after she had been nearly nagged to death by Dormé to do just that. According to her personal assistant, 'the ground was fertile for planting' – whatever the hell that meant. The problem was, he hadn't asked to see her and she didn't wish to intrude, even though this was her home, and he was in her bed.

A few hours had passed, when the sun dipped low behind the buildings of Galactic City, before Padmé decided to check on him. It would be mealtime soon, and she was going to use that as an excuse.

Padmé knocked tentatively on her bedroom door and entered once she heard him acknowledge it. She first noticed he had managed to sit upright and had perched himself on the edge of the mattress. He greeted her with a thin smile.

"Hello there."

"Good evening," Padmé replied in a pleasant voice, seating herself upon the lounge chair which she noticed had been moved next to the bed. "Feeling better?"

He cocked his head at the query and sat up a bit taller. "Yes and no. I think the fever has subsided, but I'm weak as a crechling. This is as far as I could manage."

"Is there something you needed? Can I get it for you?"

The smile returned, only this time it crinkled his eyes. "You are the most courteous politician I have ever met," he joked. "Here I am, infringing upon her personal life, your home, your generosity…"

He didn't appear to be joking, but he couldn't be serious! "Are you kidding? It almost sounds as if you're apologizing for something which was completely out of your control!"

The Jedi Master inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly, his gaze focused somewhere on her carpeted floor. "Was it? I'm smarter than this! I should've detected something. It's what I do! I try my best to be wary in any situation, to guard against any attempt at sabotage against myself, my Padawan, or whoever may be in danger….you," he added as his focus returned to her.

"How can you say that?" Padmé argued. "There's no possible way you could've known Dormé was capable of such mischief! I didn't, and I've known her as long as anyone."

Obi-Wan sat quietly for a moment, his gaze taking in the hues coloring the horizon outside her bedroom windows.

She could choke Dormé for this! Obi-Wan was the most kind and gentle man she had ever known. He didn't deserve such awful trickery and treatment!

"Was it bad?" she asked after some time, to try and keep the conversation going.

"The fever? Not entirely, no," Obi-Wan answered, grinning lopsidedly. "Although, I did experience some rather strange hallucinations. There was one in particular: I was lying here in this room, when you brought in Jar-Jar who wanted to see me. He talked with me for a while, and then suddenly announced he was the Sith Master the Jedi have been looking for. He even had a lightsaber with him and he knew how to use it! Isn't that wild?"

Padmé chuckled at the absurd possibility. "Strange indeed."

"But there wasn't anything strange about yesterday," he mentioned tacitly, turning serious all of a sudden. "My apologies if I offended you in any way, with my…my.."

What was he stammering about? Padmé wondered. Yesterday? What had happened yesterday?

Oh my. Yesterday! The snuggling!

Color quickly rose to the young woman's cheeks. "You recall that?" she asked sheepishly.

"Your assistant happened to mention…"

"Of course she did," Padmé groaned.

"In my defense, I wasn't exactly aware of what I was doing. This is your home, and I am the one imposing….my sincerest apologies."

"Obi-Wan," As Padmé spoke, she reached out to touch his hand, her breath catching when he immediately rotated his wrist in order to curl his fingers around hers. "I'm the one who's sorry," she continued once she was able. "I'm sorry for what Dormé has done to you. She had no right, no matter what her intentions were. And I'm sorry for yesterday. I was tired and hadn't slept very well…and you were having bad dreams or whatever they are, so I lay down next to you to try and calm you. I guess I fell asleep…"

* * *

"Dormé! What are you doing? Do you realize how dangerous this is? What if you get caught?"

The assistant pulled her ear off the Senator's door where she'd been eavesdropping for the past several minutes. "If you don't be quiet, then I will be! Now hush! I'm missing the important stuff!"

Once again, the young woman pressed her profile flat against the durasteel.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Anakin murmured from behind.

"Sh!"

"Besides," he continued. "There must be a more reliable source. Aren't there security monitors throughout the apartment?"

"The Senator had the ones in her suite disabled. This is the only way. Now be quiet!"

The young man tried to do what he thought best, but once again was influenced to go the wrong direction, and before he realized what he was doing, he had joined Dormé in her espionage, his head now in place right above hers.

"What was that my Master said? He 'didn't know what he was doing?' What was he doing?"

"Cuddling!" Dormé hissed. "That's old news! Now be quiet!"

The pair pressed their full weight against the door, straining to hear the quietly spoken words through layers of steel, when Dormé began to growl with frustration. "What's with all the apologies? They're never going to get anywhere if they don't quit telling each other they're sorry!"

"What's happening now?" Anakin asked when he noticed everything had gotten quiet. Much too quiet. He knew he should move, but he was quite comfortable where he was; his arm wrapped about Dormé's tiny waist, the intoxicating smell of her perfume drifting into his nostrils…

"Maybe they've reached their limits of humility and have finally gotten down to business!"

That would be nice, but Anakin didn't think so. In fact, he suddenly had a bad feeling about this. Due to her numerous feminine distractions, he wasn't quick enough to react when the Senator's door abruptly opened and he and Dormé tumbled down onto the bedroom floor.


	14. Chapter 14

**(spacer)**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen**

" **And That's How It's Done"**

"Did you drop something?"

The question the Senator had asked was both unexpected and a relief. Maybe she wasn't so upset after all! Could she possibly be that lucky?

"Because I can't imagine what you would be doing crawling around on the floor unless you were looking for something."

"I…" the assistant managed before being interrupted.

"Unless, of course, you were eavesdropping; trying to overhear what Obi-Wan and I were talking about, but I know you wouldn't stoop that low."

Dormé swallowed hard.

"So, we're just going to assume you dropped something. All right?"

Had she hit her head on the floor?

The Senator then leaned over and whispered low. "I suggest you get up, and if I ever catch you monitoring my private conversations again, I'll have you scrubbing the Senate toilets. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Anakin rose first, offering his hand to lift Dormé from the floor. Apparently, the subject was closed, and he was glad, although he was sure his Master was going to have something to say.

"Padawan?"

Here it came.

"Yes, Master?"

"I need your help. Before Padmé and I 'get down to business'," he paused to wink at Dormé. "I would like to clean up. Mind helping me into the shower?"

He couldn't believe it! Was his Master still feverish and hallucinating?

She couldn't believe it! The change of subject and avoidance of any repercussions for their actions led Dormé to believe that, whether she had been able to hear anything or not, something had happened between those two! There was no other explanation for their irregular behavior and for what Master Kenobi had just said!

While Anakin aided his Master into the bathing room, Padmé walked into the common area with Dormé.

"I expect dinner to be served in less than an hour," the Senator firmly commanded as she headed toward her comm station, most likely to check messages.

And that was that. And it was so easy, Dormé was not about to complain. They usually took turns making the meals, and she had cooked the last one, but she wasn't stupid. She did exactly as she was told and marched into the kitchen.

Soon, Anakin escorted a much cleaner, robed Obi-Wan into the common room and helped him get comfortable on the sofa facing the veranda. Padmé opened the veranda doors to allow some fresh air, regardless of their quarantine status. She then joined Obi-Wan on the sofa while Anakin went to assist Dormé in the kitchen.

"This has a nice texture," Obi-Wan pointed out, rubbing the material of Padmé's dressing robes he was wearing between his forefinger and thumb. She would have to remember to have his uniform cleaned before morning, or else he would be forced to wear one of her senatorial gowns. The picture of it in her mind brought a smile to her face. "What is it?"

"This particular frock is made from Killik silk, hand-embroidered." Padmé reached forward a hand which suddenly had an unmistakable tremor, she could not disguise. "This line of gold flowers," she explained, as her finger trailed along the sash which ran down the front of his muscular chest, "represents the Golden Era of The Colony, when the Senate accepted its petition to join the Republic. This robe was a gift from the First Killik Nest, since I was the representative sent there to accept their petition."

As she spoke, her words slowed as her heartbeat increased, and when Obi-Wan's own hand, resembling her own shaking one, reached up and grasped hers, her heart skipped a beat.

"It's a remarkable garment, smooth and silky to touch, but not nearly as soft as this."

Without taking his eyes from her face, Obi-Wan lifted her hand to his mouth and caressed her knuckles with his lips.

Dormé often teased her about her supposed obsession with acquiring gowns made of only the finest materials; the richest Aiean silks, Demicot satins, and Ottegan velvets. His beard tickled, but she had never felt anything so luxurious as Obi-Wan's lips upon her skin.

* * *

"And that," Dormé proclaimed from behind the kitchen divider she was peeking through, "is how it's done!" She punched Anakin in the arm for emphasis.

"What are you talking about?" the young man protested. "You call that a kiss? And what kind of pick-up line was that?"

Dormé sniggered as she returned to the evening's meal preparations.

"What's so funny?" the young man followed her, apparently now slightly offended.

In a deep, mimicking voice, Dormé answered. "I don't like sand, it's coarse and irritating, and it gets everywhere…" The young woman chuckled once again. "You're lucky I thought you were cute."

Without warning, Dormé's arm was caught from behind and she found herself being twisted away from the oven, into the arms and up against the firm body of a virile Jedi Apprentice.

"Let me show you what a real kiss is."

* * *

She knew there was so much wrong in the galaxy, so much hatred and hurt, death and disease, and yet in this moment, in this place everything was right.

Obi-Wan's arm was about her shoulders, their feet were propped on the occasion table, their free hands clasped, and together, they were watching the bright lights of the traffic whizzing by. At one time, Padmé thought the traffic was an annoyance, and it had taken her quite a while to get used to the incessant noise. This particular night, and possibly for the first time since moving to Coruscant, she thought the lights were quite lovely; the mixtures of blues, greens, yellows, and reds, smearing their ribbons of color across the starless sky.

"Are you getting hungry?" she asked as their bare toes playfully knocked together.

"Somewhat, although I'm quite comfortable right here. I might have to get myself one of these gowns, though." Obi-Wan answered.

"You should," Padmé teased . "You look ravishing in it."

"Why, thank you." Obi-Wan smiled, though quickly squinted with disgust. Padmé soon imitated him. "What's that smell?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, reluctantly sitting up to turn around toward the kitchen, where an unmistakable curl of gray smoke was issuing out over the kitchen divider.

Just as she was about to bound toward the kitchen, prepared to douse an apparent fire, Anakin and Dormé burst through, carrying a tray of noticeably charred food. However, her attention wasn't focused on what they were all apparently expected to eat, but on the presentation of the young couple themselves. The two were completely disheveled!

Obviously, their dinner wasn't the only thing that had been heating up in the kitchen!

"Let's order out," Obi-Wan suggested.


	15. Chapter 15

**(spacer)**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen**

 **Slumber Party**

Too many hands of sabacc had been played, their tea had gotten cold, and the conversation was beginning to lull. It was late, and Padmé knew it. She had been observing Obi-Wan for the past hour in an attempt to detect any sign of weariness. However, he seemed to still be alert and focused, probably since he'd basically slept the past three days straight!

Procrastination was not a habit Padmé practiced though, and she realized sooner or later, somebody was going to have to suggest they retire. Leave it up to Dormé.

The young assistant exaggeratedly stretched and yawned. "It's late and I'm tired. Anakin and I will sleep in my room. You two figure things out for yourselves. Come on, babe."

With a hopeful smirk, the young Jedi rose, bid his Master and the Senator a pleasant evening and followed Dormé down the short hallway which led to the assistant's own private suite.

Padmé nervously smiled at Obi-Wan and began stacking the sabacc cards.

"We need to talk," Obi-Wan announced suddenly

She knew what he was going to say, but she'd already made up her mind. This particular Jedi was about to experience Naberrie stubbornness firsthand.

"This is your home and regardless of the unfortunate circumstances, I must insist you sleep in your own bed. I'll take the sofa."

Padmé replaced the sabacc deck into its container and pushed it aside, sitting straight and meeting Obi-Wan's steady gaze. "I will not hear of it. You are ill, and I am the one responsible."

"You had very little…"

"That doesn't matter," she interrupted him. "You have been the one to suffer from Dormé's interference. You will sleep in my bed."

"I don't think.."

"You have only one option, Knight Kenobi," she boldly confirmed. "We can sit up half the night negotiating, or we can reach some sort of compromise."

A broad grin crinkled Obi-Wan's eyes. "Are you always this interminable?"

He had just called her stubborn, but she could tell he was teasing and her smile turned playful. "Why, yes. I am a politician, after all."

Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair and regarded her silently for a moment. Padmé wondered what he could possibly be thinking.

"I've known a few politicians in my day, and you are nothing like them."

She didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not. However, with her hopes for the evening settling quietly in the background of her mind, she chose to be optimistic and push the subject. "In what way?"

His brows rose and the young woman congratulated herself. It wasn't very often she was given the opportunity to put Obi-Wan on the spot.

He didn't hesitate in a reply. "I find that most representatives are fairly autocratic and self-serving, not to mention dishonest. You have not only opened your home to me and my Padawan, but have taken care of me and made every effort to ensure my comfort."

"Like I would a lost puppy?" Padmé suggested. Due to his description, it was the first image which had risen in her mind.

"No," Obi-Wan chuckled. "Not like a puppy. Like a true friend. Someone I can rely on and confide in."

A friend. Was that what Obi-Wan thought of her? How could she ever explain to him she wished for more than just friendship? Should she? Or would the conversation merely damage their budding relationship?

A newborn blossom required tender care, a gentle touch and patience for it to reach its full potential beauty. Padmé decided to wait, disguising her disappointment with a smile.

"You know you can count on me," she replied to his statement before sidestepping the subject entirely. "Now back to the sleeping arrangements. If you haven't noticed already, the apartment furnishings are aesthetically pleasing, but seeing the Chancellor had a droid decorate it, I can guarantee the sofa is not comfortable enough for sleeping. My suite, however, is something I designed myself. I chose the most comfortable bed I could find in Galactic City. Knowing that, I must insist that we share it."

Once again, copper brows lifted high on his handsome face, but Padmé pushed forward in spite of his surprise. "We are both adults and are friends. Surely, we can sleep together in the same bed without any embarrassing interludes, can't we?"

"A fair argument," Obi-Wan agreed with a nod. "If you shall assist me, Senator, we shall head that way."

A battle had been won, but Padmé realized a complete victory was still uncertain.

She helped Obi-Wan to the room and then excused herself to prepare for the evening, as he did the same. Once in the refresher, which led to her considerable wardrobe, the young woman paused. In one hand she held a rather plain, modest sleep garment, which a high neck and long sleeves. In the other, was a slightly more presumptuous piece with a low neckline, short bell sleeves, and fairly tight bodice. She actually owned more risqué nightgowns, but chose this one since it was in the middle of the scale. To her, it still read 'sleep-over' not 'hookup', although it had possibilities.

When she returned to the bedroom, she discovered Obi-Wan sitting on the bed, his face pale, his breathing hitched. Padmé rushed to him.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," he huffed. "Just not back to my old self, I guess."

"I'm sorry, I should've realized. I should've been here to help you. I was gone too long."

"Don't worry," he replied, grinning as the young lady fussed over him, assisting him to lie down and then began arranging the coverlet about his form. "I really thought I would be able to dress myself."

"You need to take it easy. You're still ill." Padmé admonished him lightly, adding a pillow behind his head for comfort.

"Then, I suppose a round of more aggressive negotiations is out of the question?"

The statement caught Padmé completely off guard, but rekindled the hope burning within the recesses of her mind. She was close enough to Obi-Wan to simply lean forward and kiss him, but she could tell he was as shocked by his boldness as she was. Instead, the young woman craned upward and placed a chaste peck upon his forehead.

"The time for negotiations has passed, I'm afraid," she teased, returning to her side of the wide mattress. "It's time for action. You need to rest."

"Yes, Mi'Lady," she heard him utter as she switched off the glowlight and settled beneath the covers herself.

Years ago, when she still lived at home, Padmé recalled having to sleep in the same bedroom as her sister, Sola. There were many nights her father would bang on their door and tell them to go to sleep, after hours of giggling, playful banter, and whispered girlish conversation.

She imagined her night with Obi-Wan would be just like that. However, the longer she lay there, staring up at the glimmer of passing traffic lights decorating her ceiling, she began to wonder if Obi-Wan had fallen asleep. His breathing had slowed and he hadn't said a word. She should sleep as well, but discovered she couldn't.

And then realized she wouldn't when the sound of Dormé's voice drifted beneath her door.

" _Not that way! Ow! That hurts! Like this! There, that's it, babe. Oh, Anakin! Oh yes, yes, yes, yes….!"_

Padmé stared wide-eyed and mortified at the ceiling. Gods, she hoped Obi-Wan was asleep and wasn't listening to what was going on!

"Padmé, are you awake?"

His voice broke the relative silence of her room and colored her face a deep crimson. For a moment, she considered pretending not to hear him, to feign ignorance and will herself into unconsciousness, but decided she couldn't. She'd never been a very good liar and actually detested deceit.

"Yes," she admitted ruefully.

"It sounds as if someone's having a good time."

His words immediately lightened the mood, causing Padmé to smile into the darkness. "Those two definitely know how to do that."

There was a pause, accompanied by the sounds of feminine moaning and more husky groans coming from down the hall.

"You know, I wasn't sure how Anakin was going to handle a relationship with someone as rambunctious as your assistant seems to be, but I think she may do him some good."

Was this that friendly confiding he had spoken of? If so, Padmé appreciated it. She had often wondered what Obi-Wan thought of Anakin's relationship with Dormé. It was a relief to hear it directly from him, although it made her wonder. His statement still rang of indecision, which was easily understandable. She harbored her own doubts.

"I don't know," Padmé admitted genuinely. "On her own, Dormé is a tempest. With Anakin, she's a downright exasperation."

The chorus of lovemaking crescendoed yet again, to the point where all Padmé wanted to do was to pull the covers over her head and hide.

"They're still young," Obi-Wan pointed out. "They have a lot of energy."

"They argue too much." Padmé added.

"That's not always a bad thing," Obi-Wan countered. "In some cases, it's the only way a couple can communicate."

There was a rather dramatic exclamation which had floated down from the other bedroom, which Padmé hoped would bring the end to the noise. After a few minutes, when silence once again reigned in her home, she sighed with relief.

What Obi-Wan had said was now at the forefront of her thoughts. Padmé didn't want to be disagreeable, but he had left her no choice.

"That may be what love means to some people," she spoke assuredly. "But not for me. Being in love means doing your best to make the other person happy, to bring out their best, not point out their worst. There may be moments of opposition and misunderstanding, but those can always be resolved in a peaceful, mature manner, without causing pain to either individual. Everything should be handled with faith and respect."

She honestly believed that, but worriedly clenched her fists anyway, unsure of what Obi-Wan's reaction was going to be.

When his hand reached far across the bed in search of her own, Padmé's entire body relaxed and she gladly allowed his fingers to slip between her own.

"I agree," he said softly into the night.

And that's all he said before she began to drift away with sleep. But it was enough.


	16. Chapter 16

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* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen**

 **"The Best Part of Waking Up..."**

 ** _(go ahead and finish that...you know you want to!)_ ;) **

There was a sense of déjà vu playing out in her mind when Padmé awoke the following morning. Once again, Obi-Wan had wrapped himself around her, pulling her tightly against him from behind. The only difference was, this morning, there was no obvious firmness pressing into her back. However, there were other similarities. She had, at some point, laid her head in the crook of his arm, while his other was firmly about her middle. His outer leg was on top of her own as well. She was thoroughly imprisoned and enjoying every second of it. Perhaps, if she lay still, she could linger in this moment; in the quiet, peaceful moment before responsibilities prompted them to move; or until Dormé woke up.

"Good morning," a low voice huskily whispered in ear, causing her skin to prickle.

He was awake, and Padmé immediately wondered how long he had been, or why neither one of them had moved yet.

"Good morning," she replied after clearing her throat. "How do you feel?"

"Much better, thank you."

Padmé stared at the far wall, then at the doorway leading to refresher, not sure what to say or do. Although Obi-Wan held her tightly against him, he hadn't moved or attempted to caress her in any way. It was a rather odd situation, but not one she wasn't pleased to be in. Padmé quieted her mind and continued to take advantage of the moment. She would move only after he did and not a second before.

Unless, of course, they were interrupted.

"Mi'Lady?" An unwelcome voice called out from beyond her door. "There's a package outside on the veranda. Would you like for me to bring it in?"

"That's fine, Dormé," she replied loudly, deeply disappointed the moment had been stolen from them so quickly.

"I guess we'd better go see what it is," Obi-Wan suggested, though he had yet to move, she noticed.

"It's from the Temple," Dormé soon announced through the sealed door. "Want me to open it?"

"No!" Padmé answered with annoyance. Dormé knew she hated it when other people opened her mail!

Forcing herself to rise, Padmé went to retrieve a robe and wrapped herself in it before opening the door. Dormé stood there bearing an idiotic smile as well as a package wrapped with brown paper. Indeed, on the top was a seal bearing the emblem of the Jedi Temple. It was addressed to Obi-Wan. "Thank you," Padmé replied, grabbing the delivery before immediately shutting the door. She enjoyed the look of complete disappointment on her assistant's face perhaps a bit too much.

When she returned to the bed, Padmé noticed Obi-Wan had managed to scoot himself back to the headboard and was leaning against the bolster. His coloring was improved, and he didn't seem out of breath, which was a great improvement.

She handed the package to him, but couldn't wait for him to open it. She had apparently slept all through the night, and drank far too much tea before going to bed.

When she had returned from the 'fresher, she discovered Obi-Wan had opened the parcel. Spread across his lap were two or three pairs of leggings, tunics, and smallclothes; all in the various shades of brown the Jedi seemed to favor.

"It's from Bant," he announced. "She shouldn't have gone to all this trouble."

"You've grown that fond of satin?" she teased him.

"Actually, yes," he answered back. "I'll have to speak with the Supply Officer when I get back to the Temple. Perhaps there are some adjustments which can be made. Maybe some satin boxers? Who would know?"

Padmé snickered, thoroughly enjoying his mood. When there wasn't danger pressing in about them, Obi-Wan had a wonderful sense of humor and expressed it freely.

"I'll help you dress this time," she suggested, "unless you would prefer I go find Anakin."

Some unidentifiable light brightened his eyes, before a small grin revealed itself. "I'm at your service. Just promise to be gentle with me."

The simple task of getting him off the bed was complicated by his weakness. Padmé did all she could do to help, although she sensed he may have also used a touch of the Force as well.

She offered him the smallclothes first, averting her eyes as he allowed her dressing gown to drop to the floor. One leg at a time, and his free hand was constantly on her shoulder. The leggings were next, donned in the same procedure. She was able to help the most with the tunic, however, suggesting he sit while she pulled it over his head.

Following a swipe of his hand through his copper locks and beard, he looked as he should, although in a far more casual setting.

"Give me a minute to prepare for the day and I'll help you to the common room," she suggested. "I'll have Dormé cook something for us to eat."

"While I distract Anakin away from the kitchen," Obi-Wan commented. "Unless, of course, you prefer your food on the far side of well done."

"Good idea," Padmé agreed with a radiant smile that reflected in eyes, which were more blue than green this morning. She was locked onto that blue-gray gaze, overcome with the strongest urge to kiss him, but fought against it. Instead, she reached out to grab his hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

As she walked to the refresher, however, she decided that perhaps when she took her shower, she should opt for the cold setting.


	17. Chapter 17

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* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen**

" **More is Brewing Than Just Tea"**

Morning meal was actually flavorful and not scorched. And even though Dormé had cooked it, she volunteered to clean up afterward. In fact, her assistant seemed in a relatively good mood - as she should be, Padmé considered, knowing what she'd been up to the night before!

The random thought shocked the young woman and hinted at a jealousy she had previously been unaware of, and didn't wish to think about at the moment. She intentionally filed the idea away under the heading, Ridiculous Thoughts, and would take the time to study it at a later date.

Turning her attention toward Obi-Wan who had settled in a chair facing the veranda, Padmé decided to open the transparisteel doors leading out to the wide balcony. The air of Galactic City wasn't necessarily what she would call 'fresh' – nothing like at her home on Naboo, but it was better than the recycled apartment atmosphere. She joined Obi-Wan in a lounge chair next to him and together they watched the bustling city traffic.

"Tell me a story," she heard Obi-Wan say abruptly his gaze no longer transfixed on the passing vehicles, but on her.

"About what?" Padmé wondered. Her life centered around politics and Dormé, and until recently, nothing that interesting had happened. Well, other than an assassination attempt on her life, but Obi-Wan already knew about that!

"Tell me….about your family." He supplied the subject, leaning back and allowing his head to bonelessly loll to his shoulder. Padmé, on the other hand, leaned forward, drawing her knees to her chest to contemplate the possibilities.

"You've met my mother and father already, my sister Sola, as well as my two nieces. What is it you want to know?"

"Something a bit further back," he suggested lazily. "When you were a child."

"All right," she replied, allowing her mind to drift far back to recall something significant and perhaps humorous to share. "Let's see: When I was about eight or nine, my family was attending the Festival of Light. During the fireworks show, I happened to see this little boy about two or three standing in the crowd. He was crying and was very upset. I left my family to go ask him what was wrong, and he told me he was lost. I spent the rest of the evening dragging him around Theed searching for his parents."

"While your own parents were likely searching for you," Obi-Wan guessed correctly.

"My mother was so mad! I tried to explain what was wrong, but she wouldn't listen to me."

"How long before they found you?"

"After about two hours, I thought it would be best if I took him to a security officer, which I did. My parents found me in one of the security booths set up near the palace, although I remember adamantly refusing to leave the boy until his mother came."

"Did your parents allow you to stay with him?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes, even though it was at least another hour, and that was with my father assisting with the search." Padmé fondly recalled how proud she was when her father returned with the boy's frantic and tearful mother in tow. She hadn't recalled that particular memory in a long while.

"The picture is quite clear," Obi-Wan stated, his mouth twisting into a wry grin.

"What picture?" she had to ask.

"Of you! Even as a girl, sacrificing your own safety to assist someone else in need. Were you born that way or was it a result of outer influence?"

Padmé could tell he was teasing from the way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight. "I did what anyone else would do in that situation. Well, anyone with no concept of self-preservation, of course."

"No, I don't think so." His tone was earnest, his eyes narrowed. "I think your empathy and insights are what allowed you be such a successful ruler of Naboo, as well as a Senator now. Too bad you weren't Force sensitive as a youngling."

"What was that like?" Padmé asked, eager to change the subject. She had never been comfortable on the receiving end of compliments. "Coming to the Temple as an infant. Did you miss your family?" she clarified her question.

His gaze focused out beyond the traffic lanes to some distant, unknown point as he spoke. "I don't recall , actually. My first memory is of Master Yoda visiting me in the crèche. I must've been about two standard. If there were any fears or sadness, I don't remember them. I suppose in a way, Master Yoda was my father, until Qui-Gon stepped in and took over. I've always considered the other Jedi my siblings. I've always looked at Anakin as more of a brother than a student. A little brother who is always getting himself into trouble," Obi-Wan added with a wink, turning his head her way once more.

The mention of the young Jedi's name might as well been an invitation. For as soon as he was mentioned, Anakin's voice carried through the apartment, and it didn't sound very pleased.

"They're arguing again," Padmé noted with some annoyance. She was doing her best not to listen to what was going on, but his and Dormé's voices were becoming so loud, she would be surprised if half of Galactic City couldn't hear them!

" _Stop twirling those dishes in the air! I'm not impressed with your parlor tricks any longer! If you break those, the Senator will have your head!"_

" _Would you quit telling me what to do! You're not my Master, you whore!"_

"That doesn't sound so good," Obi-Wan noted with concern.

"You're the one who said it may be the best way for them to communicate."

"Arguing is one thing, but malicious name-calling is another. That's not constructive, it's the opposite. It's destructive."

The yelling went on for several minutes with more choice words being exchanged, before Padmé detected one of them storming from the kitchen and retreating down the hall. When Anakin presented himself a few minutes later on the veranda, Padmé rose and gave an excuse for her departure. It was obvious the young man needed to speak with his mentor.

And she needed to have a few words with Dormé.


	18. Chapter 18

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* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen**

" **Love is Not a Supernova"**

Padmé was not surprised to find Dormé huddled on her bed holding tightly onto a pillow. She was surprised, however, to discover her young assistant had been crying, although was trying her best to hide it.

"Are you all right?" Padmé asked her. The young woman was as tough as they came, but only on the outside. Inside, the Senator knew her assistant was tender-hearted and considerably uncertain when it came to matters of the heart.

"I can't stand him! He's such an idiot!"

Padmé also realized her friend had a tendency to allow her emotions to control her tongue, and in moments of distress, often said things she didn't mean. She just hoped Anakin realized that as well.

"Don't say such things," she consoled the young woman, seating herself next to Dormé on the bed and patting her back in a gentle, rhythmic pattern.

"I'm serious! That's why I dumped him! I never want to see his stupid face again!" Fresh tears rolled down the young woman's cheeks before she dramatically threw herself facedown upon the bed.

From what she had overheard, Padmé didn't think the situation was that dire. It certainly shouldn't be the cause of such an extreme reaction! She and Dormé, however, were not the same people, so she was doing her best not to be judgmental or critical. She'd made that mistake before and swore she wouldn't again. This wasn't the first break-up. Actually, if Padmé remembered correctly, this would be their third. The first occurred following a time Anakin had been called to attend a briefing in the Council Tower: one of the many requirements of being a Jedi. Not a big deal, except for the fact, he forgot to contact Dormé about it, and had stood her up for a date. It was an unfortunate oversight, but Dormé refused to forgive him. They didn't speak for days.

The true mistake had been made afterward, when Padmé had voiced her opinion and compared the two of them to a supernova: white hot, energetic, aggressive bodies which would burn out before they had a chance to stabilize into anything significant.

At the time, Dormé had listened to her quite attentively. She had actually agreed with what Padmé had said and seemed to be considering her advice.

And then turned right around and made up with Anakin.

From that moment on, Padmé learned to keep her opinions to herself, although she hated to see her friend needlessly suffer. If only the two of them would slow down long enough to listen to one another!

All she could do was offer support, and she did so by patting Dormé's shoulder; which she kept up until the young woman began to snore.

Once she had eased herself off the bed, Padmé returned to the common room where Anakin was finishing his discussion with his Master. When the young man had made his way back inside, Padmé squeezed his arm affectionately as he passed. He seemed upset, though not nearly as much as Dormé.

"How did it go?" she asked once she had seated herself near Obi-Wan.

"I did my best to talk some sense into him, but when it comes to matters such as this, sometimes it's best to let him make his own decisions."

"Even if they're the wrong ones?" Padmé pondered. She had often deliberated over the exact same philosophy.

"Even if they're the wrong ones." Obi-Wan stated with confidence. "Otherwise, how is he ever to learn?"

"That's true," Padmé agreed, appreciating the fact that Obi-Wan's opinions nearly paralleled her own. "You seem to have more practice at this than I do. When Dormé acts this way, I don't know what to say! And how many does this make? Three? Is this healthy?"

"They've broken up three times? I thought it was just two." Obi-Wan pondered, his gaze distant, his hand toying with his beard.

"At least I didn't put my foot in my mouth this time," Padmé was pleased to announce. "Which proves, I am learning."

The expectant raise of his brow prompted Padmé to explain herself.

"I think it was after their first major fight."

"The Council Meeting," Obi-Wan defined. `

"Yes. Dormé was so upset and I took it upon myself to be the much wiser mentor and actually compared their relationship to a supernova."

A quirk of his lip warned Padmé, she had said something which caused Obi-Wan some alarm. Or else he was experiencing some new symptom.

"You're joking."

After she shook her head in a curious, negative response, Obi-Wan chuckled. "I used a meteor: A speck of dust which burns hot and bright through the atmosphere, abruptly hitting the earth with devastating effects," he quoted himself.

"You didn't."

"I did."

"Recently?"

"Just now."

Padmé hid a wide grin blossoming behind her hand.

"Go ahead and laugh at me. I knew he wasn't listening anyway. His hormones are clogging his ears."

She took his advice and burst out in giggles, actually snorting at the end, which embarrassed her completely and resulted in a round of hysterics. Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind, however. He joined her after that, and they laughed together for quite a while. It was a great stress-reliever.

"That feels good," Obi-Wan announced once they had caught their breath. "I don't often get a chance to laugh. There's not much to laugh about out in the galaxy."

"I know," Padmé agreed, sobering slightly, although she continued to smile. She couldn't help herself. She simply enjoyed his company, and if this was all she could ever have with Obi-Wan, it would be enough.


	19. Chapter 19

**(spacer)**

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen**

" **Timeout"**

Her apartment wasn't that spacious. Two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, a common area, and a balcony. At some point in the future, she would probably opt for the larger apartment upstairs, which would provide another living space, as well as two extra bedrooms for guests such as family.

In the meantime, she was satisfied with what the Senate had offered her. It wasn't until today, however, that Padmé realized just how small the space actually was. When two of its occupants were at odds with one another, the place was downright cramped!

Dormé had spent most of the day in her room with Anakin moping about in the kitchen and common area. Obi-Wan had spent his time sunning on the veranda, sleeping off the stubborn remnants of the Plyridian virus. Padmé had done her best to tie up some loose political ends via her comm system, although there were several tasks which could only be completed in person. The communique she had sent to the Chancellor regarding her absence had been accepted and returned by his personal secretary with a kind note attached telling her not to worry.

There was nothing more she could do, so Padmé shut down the system for the night and checked on Anakin in the kitchen. She was surprised to discover he had been spending his time trying to create a meal for them. Padmé had been previously unaware he knew how to cook, and after viewing the mess he had made in her kitchen, she still wasn't sure.

"You didn't have to do this," she gently scolded the young man, secretly wishing he hadn't!

"I had to do something," he grumped. "Another ten in this place and I'm going to lose my mind."

He hadn't complained when he and Dormé were getting along, and Padmé wondered how she could fix this. Or even if she should try. If history repeated itself, the two would most likely be participating in a noisy make-up session before the night's end.

"I'm certain everything's going to be all right," she did her best to console him.

"That's easy for you to say. You and Master Kenobi never say one cross word to each other! How do you do that? Doesn't he annoy you with his constant criticisms and overbearing nature?"

She blamed the young man's sour attitude entirely on Dormé, and smiled sweetly at him, as she began cleaning up the mess he had made. Why were egg shells all over the counter? "I'm sure Obi-Wan is doing his best to train you the best way he knows how. He's very proud of you."

The young man's shoulders slumped as he leaned over the stove. Padmé took the opportunity to turn off the heating elements before he caught himself on fire.

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Padmé did, and there didn't seem anything she could do about it! So, she decided to change the subject.

"What did you make?" she asked, after she'd been unable to recognize any of the dishes he'd prepared.

"I was going to make lamta and ahrisa, like my mom taught me, but it's not going to be as good I'm afraid. You didn't have all the ingredients, so I had to make some substitutions."

Anakin handed her a tray which was loaded down with what looked like some type of meatballs, a broth-based soup, and pieces of crusty brown bread.

"You made this all yourself? I'm impressed," she complimented him.

"Don't be until you taste it," he warned playfully.

After setting the tray on the dining table, Padmé went to retrieve Obi-Wan, who was still basking in the waning sunlight of the day. She knelt next to him, unsure of the best way to wake a Jedi. There were many temptations that came to mind, such as nuzzling his neck with her lips or twirling her tongue around his earlobe. Noticing how peacefully serene he appeared, however, she decided not to shock him awake and simply leaned forward to place a kiss upon his cheek. His head turned almost immediately, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"I was dreaming," his cultured voice purred, sending a shiver to Padmé's toes.

"Oh? May I ask about what?"

"You may," he smirked.

"Fine. Be that way. Food's prepared. Are you hungry?"

"That all depends," Obi-Wan answered, pulling himself to an upright position. "Did you make it?"

"Anakin did."

"Aha. Then prepare yourself, Senator, for some rare Tatooine fare. I just hope he took it easy on the tezirett this time."

Padmé wasn't even sure she had any of that particular herb in her pantry. "I'll keep plenty of ice water on the table," she teased, knowing a little tezirett went a long way. She assisted Obi-Wan as he stood, a bit wobbly at first, although he regained his footing quickly.

Once they had seated themselves around the table, Padmé hesitated, unsure whether to hail Dormé or not. The girl had been sulking all afternoon, and frankly, one brooding dinner companion was enough. Apparently, though, her stars weren't aligned this evening, for as soon as the food was set on the table, the drama queen, herself, walked into the dining area.

"Looks like I'm just in time," the young woman announced. "Senator, Master Kenobi, I hope you had a pleasant afternoon," Dormé greeted everyone, with the obvious exception of Anakin, who's eyes were currently transfixed upon the ceiling.

The young woman sat in her usual chair and eyed the preparations. "This smells delicious! Senator, is this a new recipe?"

"Anakin made it."

The information Padmé supplied wiped the supercilious grin off Dormé's face. "Oh."

"It's a family recipe," Anakin noted with a hint of pride.

"I guess that makes it automatically edible then, right? And if it's not?"

"You can go eat the scraps I put in the disposal for all I care!" the young man replied hotly, depositing a forkful into his mouth.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you!" Dormé shot back. "Isn't that what you said earlier? That I would always be eating the scraps from beneath the Senator's table? That I would never be anything more than a personal assistant? Isn't that what you said?"

"I didn't say that exactly," the young man mumbled.

"Then share with the Senator and your Master exactly what you did say! I'm sure they'd like to hear it!"

"Why? You always take everything I say the wrong way anyway!" Anakin shouted. "And why is that? It's like you enjoy fighting!"

"Enough!"

The single word accompanied by a strong hand slamming down upon the table was enough to silence the couple and vibrate the dishes. Padmé nervously glanced toward Obi-Wan, expecting to see his face reddened with anger. But it wasn't. He was quite calm, and when he spoke, his words were forceful though tightly controlled, his eyes focused solely upon his Padawan.

"You are a guest in the house of a gracious and kind host, and I will remind you both to respect that. Padmé and I will be taking our meal into her suite, and by the time we are finished, the two of you will have reached some sort of agreement. I don't care what it is, but there will be no more personal attacks or shouting in this home. We have two more weeks to spend in each other's company, and may I remind one of you, just who put us in this predicament in the first place? I suggest we all make the best of this situation, and if you can't manage to be civil to one another, I will be forced to take more drastic measures. Understood?"

Padmé wasn't about to ask what those measures pertained to. In fact, she was too stunned to speak at all. She couldn't imagine how Anakin and Dormé felt.

"I believe I asked if you understood," he repeated, rising to emphasize the seriousness of his words.

"Yes, Master," Anakin droned.

"Yes…yes sir," Dormé meekly added.

Apparently satisfied, Obi-Wan lifted his plate of food from the table. Padmé did the same. "If you would follow me, Senator?" he suggested, walking with decent speed to her private suite, shutting the door once they had both entered.

He stopped her there, obviously listening for any repercussions to his stern lecture. After hearing none, he glanced toward Padmé.

She hated to admit it, but she was nervous. Padmé possessed her own voice of authority she used during senatorial proceedings, but the command she had just witnessed in Obi-Wan's voice demanded nothing but respect and could easily evoke fear in an enemy.

But then he waggled his brows at her. "Do you think they bought it?"

Padmé chuckled with relief. "Are you kidding? I nearly peed myself!"

Obi-Wan tilted his head back and laughed, shushing himself immediately afterward. "Let's move away from the door. Do you mind eating on your bed?"

"It's either there or the 'fresher," Padmé pointed out the only other option.

"The bed it is then."


	20. Chapter 20

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* * *

 **Chapter Twenty**

" **Dr. Dormé"**

The dishes were soaking in the bathing room sink. Padmé didn't think it was a good idea to disturb the pair they had left in the common room, although she couldn't detect any evidence of an ongoing battle. And as long as Anakin's blood wasn't puddling beneath her door, she assumed everything was safe and back to normal.

As was the routine in her bedroom. She readied herself for bed in privacy, while Obi-Wan did the same and they slipped beneath the blankets on the opposite sides of the bed.

They spoke of mundane things such as their favorite seasons, colors, smells, animals, and what made them most happy. At some point, there had been an unspoken agreement between them, that Obi-Wan's recovery would be a time to relax. Essentially, that meant their conversations were trivial, the topics simple and unimportant.

For Padmé, however, the time they had spent in simple pillow talk had been more meaningful than any other type of discussion. Through that time together, she had had the opportunity to get to know the man beneath the plain brown robes, the person hidden behind the mask of Jedi austerity. While the rest of the galaxy saw Obi-Wan as a fierce warrior, she had been given the rare glimpse of his insecurities, his fears, and loyalties outside his circle of colleagues.

The experiences and information she had gained humanized him, making him far more attractive than she had earlier perceived. She was not ashamed to admit she was becoming quite fond of him, and now held him in high regard.

After wishing him a pleasant sleep, Padmé drifted lazily, dreaming of a peaceful waterfall in the Lake Country of Naboo; of holding hands with a man, whose identity she could not discern, but someone who filled her with serenity.

When she woke up the following morning, hands quite similar to those in her subconscious fantasy were once again wrapped around her. Like every morning, they had gravitated toward each other during the night. The only difference was that this time, she was facing Obi-Wan; his chin parked on the top of her head.

He had not yet stirred, and so Padmé took the opportunity to appreciate the warmth of his chest peeking through the vee of his tunic, the steady intake and output of his breath, the slow rhythmic beat of his heart. She wasn't sure how long she studied him before he stirred, squeezed her tight, and then abruptly turned away from her.

For some reason, the usual action on this particular day was wounding; a bruise to her ego and a laceration upon her patience. Perhaps he wasn't feeling well just yet. He usually didn't until he had taken his daily dose of Gattis root tea.

"How are you this morning?" she asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hm?"

He was distracted apparently. It had taken him a few seconds to even acknowledge her voice.

"Oh. I believe I may be improving," he finally answered distractedly. "I'm not as dizzy as I have been."

"That's good to hear," Padmé told him, although her words didn't quite match her attitude. What was wrong with her? Why was she suddenly unhappy to hear he was finally doing better? Was she that insecure? That selfish, that she wished for him to be sick, so that he would stay with her?

Preposterous!

The thought jolted Padmé from the bed as she headed to the bathing room to prepare for their day. She was going to take up her morning making first meal alone, which would hopefully give her more time to think about the random, irrational thoughts in her head.

These days, Obi-Wan managed to dress himself and had already made his way to the veranda, although, Padmé noticed he wasn't in the chair he had claimed as his favorite. Instead, he was on his knees in an obvious meditative pose, the rising sun shining brightly upon his copper hair.

Another surprise this morning was when she found Anakin asleep on the sofa. Due to the lack of noise the night before, Padmé had believed, he and Dormé had possibly made up. But then the lack of noise could've also meant they hadn't. Either way, she ignored the young man for the time-being and headed into the kitchen, where she discovered Dormé.

"Good morning, Senator," the young woman greeted, as she searched the cupboards. They were starting to run low on supplies, Padmé had noted and were going to be forced to have some delivered soon.

"Good morning, Dormé," the Senator matched the young woman's cheerfulness. "How is everything?"

"If you're asking how Anakin and I are, everything is fine."

Padmé paused in her own search for ingredients and stared at the young woman in disbelief. No shouting, no embarrassingly loud make-up sex? "What do you mean by _fine_?"

Her aid smiled at her knowingly. "We had a long talk last night. We decided to take a break; to take a step back and see if what we're doing is healthy. Anakin has enough stress in his life. I don't want to add to it."

It was one of the most mature things she had ever heard come out of her assistant's mouth.

"That's very…wise of you both," Padmé stuttered in surprise.

"And that's exactly what we thought you'd say," her assistant chuckled as she activated the heating unit to boil a kettle of water.

"You don't need to worry about us any longer, Senator. And don't say you weren't because I know you were. We'll figure it all out on our own."

Padmé was stunned and stepped back as Dormé pulled two pans from the lower unit, which were filled with the pastries she made on only special occasions because they were so much trouble. She must've been in the kitchen half the night!

The young woman peered through the room's divider and then turned back around, smiling. "Looks like we'll finally be able to enjoy some time alone. It appears Master Kenobi needs a moment, and Anakin is going to sleep for a while. Come, join me at the table."

In the back corner of the kitchen was a bar which would seat two. It was there, she and Dormé enjoyed the quiet morning.

"Now that you no longer need to worry about my personal life, let me ask you about yours." The young woman eyed Padme over her cup.

"My personal life is really none of your…"

"Before you say another word," Dormé interrupted, "you should be aware, I have plenty of other ideas in my head."

The pastry went sideways in her throat, causing Padmé to choke. "Don't you dare!" she exclaimed as quickly as she could.

"Just saying.," her assistant held up a hand in temporary surrender. "Unless…you're willing to give me the information I require."

The delicacies she had been enjoying just a few moments ago now seemed dry and tasteless. Padmé picked up her cup instead and sipped at the creamy, caffeinated beverage. "There isn't much to tell."

"Oh, come on!" Dormé pleaded, incredulity lifting her brow. "You've spent a week in the same bed, and you're going to tell me that nothing has happened?"

"Not so loud!" Padmé scolded. "I don't want Obi-Wan to hear!"

"Trust me, he's no longer on this planet." Dormé reached for another pastry and stuffed half of it in her mouth and chewed. "I just can't believe you were in the same room, in the same bed, and didn't touch each other!"

"I didn't say that," Padmé admitted quietly lifting both of her friend's brows this time. "We…held each other."

"You. Held. Each other." The young woman tossed the uneaten half of her portion onto the table and threw up her hands. "That's it! I give up!"

Starting to flush with a hint of embarrassment, Padmé focused upon the mosaic patterns on the tabletop. What she and Obi-Wan had shared so far had seemed so special! Dormé made it sound…pathetic!

"Unless…"the young woman broke into her tortuous thoughts, leaning forward once more. "Unless there's a reason…"

"Like, he's been sick?" Padmé proposed. It seemed a good enough reason for her. Well, up until just now.

"It's more than that. Most men wouldn't pass up an opportunity like the one he's had while on their death bed! There's got to be more to it!"

Padmé could tell just by looking at her aid that the machinery in her head was working overtime. She would give anything to be anyplace else, but there was no point in excusing herself from the room. It wasn't like she could escape; so, she sat and waited.

"What if…" the young woman began as Padmé mentally prepared herself.

"What if you have the wrong plumbing?"

It was going to be worse than she'd thought. "What?"

"You know! What if his lightsaber swings the other way? Or his speeder doesn't fly straight? Have you ever thought of that?"

"Are you clinically insane?"

"Why would you say that? Do you know something I don't?" Dormé defended her outlandish accusation. "Is there a rule? A part of their sacred code I don't know about? It takes all kinds, you know."

"Stop, just stop!" Padmé dramatically dropped her head onto the table. She couldn't listen to any more!

"Think about it," the young woman leaned over her, a hand gently petting her hair. "You are a single, attractive, and intelligent young woman. Master Kenobi is a single, attractive, intelligent man. If the two of you can't make a connection, then there's something wrong. And my guess is, that something is _him!_ "


	21. Chapter 21

**(spacer)**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One**

" **And the Winner Is…"**

There was a particular time each day when time seemed to slow to a crawl. It was the point between mid meal and dinner that the company of friends often found themselves in search of meaningful conversation or something interesting to do.

So far, the task of finding suitable entertainment had fallen upon Dormé. Previously, she had forced everyone to watch each excessively sentimental holovid she owned. Even though Padmé was usually a fan of romantic dramas, she'd had her fill.

Even sabacc had become tedious.

Already this afternoon, numerous comedic tales had been exchanged, as well as stories of intrigue and danger uncovered in a variety of missions across the galaxy. Padmé almost envied the Jedi. It seemed they led such thrilling lives, while she spent most of her time in committees. What she did was important, but it wasn't what she would call exciting.

Their newest pastime apparently involved silent staring. That is, until Dormé popped up from her seat at the table and announced they were playing a game.

"Pantomime!" she suggested, volunteering to be the first.

For a few seconds, Padmé wasn't sure it was such a good idea, but then recalled some rather fond memories of playing the game with her family when she was young. She agreed, although somewhat reluctantly.

"What's that?" Anakin asked, which she thought was sad. But then she figured Jedi didn't have many opportunities to participate in parlor games, did they? Not while they were out saving the galaxy, anyway.

"It's easy," Dormé explained. "I'll pick a topic and then act it out without speaking. And you try to guess what it is."

"Sounds simple enough," Obi-Wan replied, which brought a wide grin to her assistant's face and immediate concern to Padmé's.

"Okay, let me think. I've got it," Dormé revealed, bouncing up and down excitedly. "It's an activity. Two words. Ready?"

Both men agreed they were prepared, while Padmé tried to get Dormé's attention, to offer a warning glance, worry settling firmly on her brow. Her assistant, however, refused to make eye contact.

This was not going to end well.

The young woman then proceeded to make a series of movements with her hands, arms, and mouth.

Anakin guessed randomly and repeatedly, while Obi-Wan pondered quietly, his fingers thoughtfully scrubbing his beard. Padmé didn't utter a word or move a muscle.

"You're swimming! No? Something's wrong with your back. Back pain? What is that called, Master? Scoliosis?"

Dormé aimed two fingers at him and frowned.

"Oh yeah," the young man recalled. "Just two words."

Once again Dormé thrashed about in the air, until finally lying down on the floor, her knees bent and drawn.

"I got it!" Anakin shouted. "Giving birth!"

Padmé looked toward the ceiling in exasperation as Dormé jumped up from the floor, making the motion to indicate a wrong answer, but urging him to keep guessing; telling him without words that he was close to being correct. She then began desperate, provocative movements with her hips, which seemed only to confuse everyone but the Senator.

"Game over!" Padmé declared abruptly, before rising and grabbing hold of her assistant's arm. "May I have a word with you?" she seethed between clenched teeth.

"Ow!" The young woman complained as the Senator's grip tightened while they marched down the hall into Dormé's suite.

"Just what was that?" Padmé demanded once they had some privacy.

"Uh, isn't that the point of the game?"

Unbelievable! "Are you trying to intentionally embarrass me?"

Dormé huffed in denial. "Of course not! I was merely trying to offer my assistance, which is my job, by the way. I thought maybe I could shed some light on a subject a particular Jedi we know seems to be having difficulty with..."

"I see," the Senator fumed, her hands firmly on her hips. "No more! Do you hear me? For the last time, leave it alone!"

Padmé retreated back to her company with her aid in hot pursuit.

"Does that mean the game is finished?"

Without answering her, Padmé entered the dining area, where she found Obi-Wan on his feet. He smiled kindly, revealing a good deal of tolerance - something she was certainly lacking these days.

"It was...fun." he lied in good taste. "If you don't mind, I'm feeling rather tired. I think I'll lie down."

"Of course," Padmé told him, offering him an apologetic smile before he turned and entered her suite, the door sliding shut behind him.

"I got it!" Anakin declared. "Dewback riding!"

* * *

It was still a few hours before dinner, and Padmé had covered one of her sofas with datapads. There were some committee reports she needed to review, as well as a few documents to sign. Her other sofa directly opposite her was covered with the sprawled bodies, which were doing their best to make up for lost time.

Unable to stomach the sickly-sweet conversation Anakin and Dormé were presently having, Padmé excused herself to go and check on Obi-Wan. She was surprised to find him still sleeping, lying in the middle of her bed. After freshening up a little, Padmé debated her options. Ultimately, she decided a nap didn't sound like such a bad idea, and joined him, careful not to disturb his slumber.

Seemingly successful in her stealth attempts, she lie quietly on her back, her eyes becoming gritty. She was just about to close them, when a hand suddenly reached out across her ribcage and literally drug her over to his side.

Like a tusk-cat soaking up the sun, Obi-Wan curled up against her. She wouldn't have been that surprised if he'd started purring.

And she was now wide awake, wondering if she should wake him as well. She could turn her head just enough to see his face, and noticed he was smiling. Was he dreaming? If so, what was he dreaming about? She studied his face, familiar with the look of deep sleep, though couldn't detect it.

In fact, there was a good chance he was actually awake, which made absolutely no sense. If he was aware of what he was doing, he wouldn't be holding her this way! In fact, each morning when he had awakened in a similar position, he had wasted no time in vacating it; in leaving her arms empty, and her heart wanting.

No. He had to be sleeping.

"Making love," his voice unexpectedly rumbled.

"Pardon?" Padmé could barely find hers.

"That was the pantomime Dormé was acting out, wasn't it?"

A flush radiated to her face. "I thought you weren't playing the game," she pointed out.

"I left because I could tell you were embarrassed. I thought it would be best. I tried to stay awake to see if you would join me for a nap, but I didn't last long."

"I'm sorry," she replied sweetly. "I got busy with work and lost track of time. When I came to check on you, you were asleep, weren't you?"

"I was," Obi-Wan paused, his brows furrowing. "Your presence though…is disturbing."

What did that mean?

"I didn't mean to wake you. I got onto the bed as gently as I could," she explained, only to receive a chuckle and quick embrace in response.

"That's not the type of disturbance I was talking about," he tried to explain.

Padmé drew back, growing more confused. "I've heard Jedi talk about disturbances in the Force. Is that what you mean?"

This time, apparently her naivety earned a caress, which Obi-Wan applied slowly down the side of her face.

"If disturbances in the Force were only as lovely as you."

Hold on.

"What are you trying to say?" Something told Padmé not to let this moment pass by. She may never have another one.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to discuss it."

Oh no, he didn't just say that! She had just about had it and was not going to let him evade this discussion!

"We've just spent the two weeks in each other's arms, you've just complimented me, and now you're going to tell me you don't want to talk about it? That doesn't seem fair."

"You're right," he frowned, rising from the bed, once more escaping the predicament they had created. He didn't leave the room, however, but set up a pattern of pacing across her floor; walking from the foot of her bed, to the corner near the bank of windows and back again.

"I've tried my best," he uttered, seemingly to himself, before spinning to face her. "You have no idea how difficult this has been for me."

"I know," Padmé interrupted. "I can't apologize enough for what Dormé did to you."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Obi-Wan appeared to be struggling, and Padmé wanted to help ease his obvious suffering, but she didn't know what to do!

"Every morning, I wake up to see your beautiful face, to feel your body against mine, and it's not enough! I've thought about it, meditated on it, and thought it would be, but it's not. I want you, Padmé. You have no idea how badly I want you."

She was stunned, frantically searching for the right response. To put into words the tender feelings which had been growing day by day. Somehow, finding the strength to stand, she met him by the bedside, though he purposefully kept her at arm's length.

"Obi-Wan," she spoke reverently, his reaction evident in the way he clenched his jaw. She had to make this clear and let him know how serious she was. Padmé reached out with both hands and cradled his face. Perhaps her touch would ease the tension she saw there, although it seemed to do just the opposite.

"You can have me."

Her words didn't exactly illicit the response she had hoped for. Instead, Obi-Wan began shaking his head.

"Don't say that," he groaned, removing her hands, though not releasing them. "Not unless you mean it. You don't know how deep my feelings go, or what I'm asking of you."

Was he talking about love? She hadn't yet defined her feelings for Obi-Wan using that particular term, but presented it as a possibility, and discovered it suited her just fine. "I think I do," Padmé admitted gaining courage with each passing second, the acknowledgment bringing tears to her eyes. "And I think I love you too."

Some of the tension was eased she noticed, though his brow was still furrowed with concern.

"Are you sure? Do you know what that means? To love a Jedi? Of what that entails? It could mean days, weeks, months apart! I never wanted to put you through that kind of life. I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy! You deserve so much more than what I can offer you."

Always thinking of others first!. His self-sacrifice was tearing her apart!

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

Once again, Obi-Wan shook his head in refusal, but Padmé stopped him this time, stepping forward to press herself against him.

"Listen to me," she spoke into his chest. "If you take the possibility of us away from me, if you deny me the amazing life I believe we can share, you will cause me more pain than you could possibly imagine."

At the end of difficult negotiations, sometimes the only resolution was a show of commitment. Oftentimes, all it took was a signature or a handshake. Padmé would seal this particular bargain the best way she knew how. She tiptoed up and kissed him. Hesitantly at first. Just a light brush of her lips against his, to assure him of her devotion.

The unexpected contact, however, seemed to completely undo him, and he grabbed her almost roughly, drawing her fully up against him, growling as he kissed her the way she had secretly fantasized he would. Obi-Wan demanded and Padmé willingly offered, mewing in complete surrender as he ravaged her mouth. She was only vaguely aware of the strong arms which encompassed her, the embrace which kept her from blissfully floating away.

Breathless and weak, though yearning for more, Padmé held tightly onto his tunic when he released her. Surely, she would've fallen down if she hadn't.

"Promise me one thing," Obi-Wan asked as he dropped tender pecks onto her forehead and nose.

"Anything," she vowed.

"Don't tell Dormé"

"Gods, no!" Padmé agreed, laughing softly. "She'd never let us hear the end of it!"


	22. Chapter 22

(Spacer)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two**

" **Consequences Happen** "

Their conversations had been altered, becoming far more personal; the awkwardness of holding each other was now non-existent. And even though a particular desirous subject loomed in the shadows of her mind, Padmé decided to take Obi-Wan's advice and 'live in the moment.'

She knew him well enough to realize in this, he wouldn't be rushed. Nor would he do anything to disrespect her in any way; which meant, she was going to have to be patient. So very, very patient.

Right now, their focus was not on the future or its possibilities, but apparently on their hands. Both were currently lifted into the air, pressed together, palm to palm as if they were a point of interest; a comparative study of textures, size, and fit. In her opinion, Padmé thought that Obi-Wan's hand felt quite comfortable against hers and was as attractive as the rest of him, and that she was in dire need of a manicure. Obi-Wan hadn't seemed to notice.

So far, she had been able to participate in the playful touches and caresses without allowing her fantasies to run rampant. That is, until his attention shifted, and he began to nuzzle her neck, discovering a spot along her collarbone which was quite sensitive, the touch of his beard there sending goosebumps shooting down her arm.

He did happen to notice that, of course, and soothed the reaction with a slow, gentle caress.

"Are you cold?" he asked with a much deeper voice than usual, sending another shiver down her left leg.

"No," Padmé truthfully replied. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

Her admission caused a grin to erupt on his face, although his caresses remained innocent, causing her to squirm. When he eased her inability to remain still with suckling kisses along her jaw and mouth, she nearly shouted out her surrender and gave in to her desires, her nails scraping along his bare back in a desperate plea.

The action caused him to raise his head. Padmé could see the unsated hunger in his eyes, but she could also hear evidence of a different type of hunger occurring a bit further down. His stomach was rumbling.

"It's past dinner time," she pointed out the obvious.

"I don't care," he replied, lowering his head to feast upon her throat.

Padmé wriggled once more beneath the talented onslaught of his lips and tongue. "You need to eat something to keep up your strength," she insisted, although she wanted nothing more than to lay with him like this until they were bones and dust.

Her concern for his well-being soon overcame the rather titillating sensations, however, and she withdrew from his embrace, causing him to fall face forward onto the bed with a disappointed groan.

"Come on. Let's not add to the suspense. We'll say we've both been sleeping. That's all."

"All right," Obi-Wan agreed reluctantly, rolling over, but taking a moment to sit on the side of the bed before joining her at the door.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, concerned perhaps the virus was affecting him still.

"Perfectly fine," he assured her. "Just give me a moment. I can't go in there in this state, or the mystery is solved."

Full understanding brought a blush to Padmé's cheeks and a proud smile to her face. Obviously, she had the same effect as he did on her, although his self-control was far more advanced. If he planned on making her wait too much longer though, she was going to spontaneously combust!

* * *

Padmé was pleased to find both her sofas were empty. Apparently, the young couple had retreated to the privacy of Dormé's room, although there wasn't much noise coming from that direction.

Taking advantage of their own privacy, Padmé took Obi-Wan's arm and drew him into the kitchen, where she pressed him against the closed divider and kissed him senseless.

"What kind of food would you like to eat this evening?" she asked when she withdrew, pleased with herself when he leaned forward in pursuit of her lips.

"Food?" he murmured distractedly. "What's that?"

"A necessity, I'm afraid," Padmé told him as she opened the cooling unit in search of something edible. With Obi-Wan in the room, distractions were inevitable, and she lost her concentration completely with both his arms wrapped around her from behind.

"We could always order out again," he offered. "It would be quick and easy to clean up, which would allow us more time to be alone."

"You, Master Jedi," Padmé teased, trying her best to focus on the reason she came in here, "have a one-track mind."

"When it comes to you, my dear, I most certainly do." He punctuated his declaration with a kiss to the side of her face just before they heard voices drifting down the hall.

Damn!

They immediately separated, though just before Dormé burst through the door, Anakin in tow.

"Hey, you two!" she announced happily.

"Good evening, Master," the Padawan said with more formality.

"We were getting hungry and came in here to fix something, but it looks like you beat us to it! Who's cooking tonight?"

Padmé glanced at Obi-Wan, whose face had once again taken on the serene, unflappable countenance of a Jedi. She smiled anyway, now that she understood it was all for show; for the benefit of his student and his boisterous girlfriend.

"I will," Padmé volunteered, which caused a look of surprise on everyone's faces.

"You?" Obi-Wan questioned, revealing a disturbing level of doubt.

"Yes, me! I know my way around a kitchen. Maybe you can help." She wanted nothing more than to spend their evening preparing a meal together, and could picture it as a most enjoyable activity they could share, with a variety of seductive possibilities.

However, Dormé would have none of it.

"I'll stay and help. Master Kenobi should relax. And besides, Anakin needs to speak with him."

"I do?" the young man questioned, resulting in receiving an elbow to his ribcage, which he coughed off before taking the obvious hint. "Oh yeah, that's right. I do."

Padmé couldn't disguise her disappointment, aiming it at Obi-Wan, who smiled reassuringly at her.; almost as if to say, 'we have tonight and then the rest of our lives.' Discouraged, but hopeful, Padmé acquiesced, and agreed to her assistant's suggestion.

Since the variety of ingredients were diminishing quickly, the best option for the menu this evening was stew. While Dormé prepped the base and browned the tenderloin, Padmé chopped the vegetables.

"Aren't you going to tell me anything?" her assistant prompted after what Padmé hoped would be ongoing silence.

"There isn't anything to say," she replied, nearly complete with her task.

"That's rather disappointing." Dormé uttered, adding the beef to the stew pot. "I was sure hoping the two of you had finally gotten together. I don't know what to say, but I'm starting to think if nothing has happened by now, maybe the two of you weren't meant to be. I'm sorry, Senator. I really thought you and Master Kenobi were going to hit it off. I guess I was wrong."

Padmé realized how much it took for Dormé to not only apologize for her actions, but to admit she'd been mistaken. Neither were common habits of hers.

Once she had added the vegetables to the pot, turned the heat to simmer, and placed the lid on, she turned to face her assistant. Indeed, what she saw evident in the young woman's face was remorse and regret. A rare sight, indeed; and one which made Padmé feel slightly guilty, nearly compelling her to tell her friend every detail of her afternoon with Obi-Wan, how they had cuddled, caressed, and confessed their love for one another.

But she'd made a promise not to tell, and she was going to keep it. Besides, even though Dormé was apparently sorry for what she'd done, that didn't mean she didn't need to suffer some consequences for her actions. Perhaps keeping her ignorant of their delightful progress would satisfy that requirement.

"Thank you for admitting that," Padmé told her. "I know how difficult that must've been," she added with a coy smile.

"Senator?"

It was Anakin whose head had popped into the room. "There's a comm for you. It's Chancellor Palpatine."

Padmé quickly washed her hands and dried them before answering the call.

"Good evening, Chancellor," she greeted the older gentleman. "I trust my secretary forwarded the amendments I signed earlier today?"

"Yes, yes," the man informed her in a friendly tone. "But that's senatorial business, and that's not why I've contacted you. First off, please be so kind as to reassure me that you are all in good health."

"We are," Padmé told him. "And Master Kenobi is doing quite well. He's actually feeling better every day."

"That's good, that's good," the Republic leader grinned weakly before widening the view of the holoprojector, which was starting to look more like a conference call. There was someone else in the Chancellor's office; someone who looked exactly like Master Mace Windu. "Master Kenobi's condition is why I'm contacting you, actually."

The appearance of the Jedi Master attracted the others in the room to the comm station.

"It pleases me to see you are well, Obi-Wan," Master Windu declared.

"Good evening, Mace. Is there a problem?"

The uniqueness of this communique had not escaped Padmé's notice, and she was beginning to have a bad feeling about it.

Instead of the Jedi Master answering Obi-Wan's question, the Chancellor reclaimed the floor. "There has been a serious complaint filed against your personal assistant, Senator Amidala," the Chancellor announced without further preamble. "It has apparently come to light that she purchased a dangerous substance illegal in the Core Worlds, with the intention of tampering with the health and life of a prominent member of the Jedi."

"You've got to be joking," Padmé heard her assistant mutter before she silently shushed her.

"This is quite serious," the Chancellor affirmed. "Plyridian fever has ravaged entire systems and often renders Force users such as Master Kenobi, powerless. I believe a precedent has been set, and the Jedi Council has decided to bring forth criminal charges against Dormé in light of an ongoing investigation headed by Master Windu. Some disturbing evidence has been uncovered, I'm afraid."

"This is a highly unusual maneuver by the Council, I have to admit," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Agreed," Master Windu replied. "It took many hours of deliberation to come to an agreement on the best way to proceed, but it was decided unanimously that as an authoritative body, we cannot allow a citizen of the Galactic Republic to terrorize a member of the Jedi without repercussions."

Obi-Wan sat back and thoughtfully scrubbed his beard. "Indeed. In that case, I concur with the Council," he said after a moment, causing the aid standing directly behind him to gasp with disbelief.

"I'm pleased to hear that," the Chancellor spoke up, his eyes now narrowly focusing upon a now-retreating Dormé. "I'm quite disappointed in you, young woman. The Senator often spoke so highly of you. Senator Amidala, I will contact you at later time regarding the details of her arraignment."

Padmé didn't know what to say. "Thank you," she uttered at last.

Essentially, the communique had ended, but she had a horrible feeling the consequences for Dormé's actions had just begun.

* * *

A/N: A personal note to reader "Vel." I would LOVE to answer your questions and make comments to your reviews, but unless you Login, I can't! If you don't wish to Login to FFN, I understand, but perhaps you can email me instead? ticklesivory . fanfiction at gmail dot com Thanks!


	23. Chapter 23

(spacer)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three**

" **Glimpses of Resistance"**

By the time the communication had ended, the blue pixels of the holographic image dissipating, Dormé was nowhere to be found. Either the embarrassment or horror of her present situation had driven her to her own room. Concern prompted Anakin to follow.

Padmé stood up from the desk chair and turned to face Obi-Wan, unsure of what to say. He was within his rights to demand retribution for what Dormé had done. The young woman had no right to interfere, and the outcome could've been so much worse!

But deep inside, she hoped Obi-Wan would show some mercy; that he would be lenient in this particular instance.

Padmé couldn't believe she was actually thinking along those lines, but Anakin had been correct. Dormé had meant no harm, and had only done what she thought was best; what would bring Padmé the most happiness. Although her actions were beyond irresponsible, they were done with the best intentions and done out of love.

Padmé just couldn't bring herself to punish her for that, and she hoped Obi-Wan would feel the same, although the decision was his. She wouldn't try to influence him otherwise.

"You're worried," Obi-Wan observed, as he escorted her to the sofa, his hand gently pressing against the small of her back.

"I trust you will do what's best," Padmé replied confidently once they had seated themselves closely together.

"I've had plenty of time to think about this," Obi-Wan began, reaching for her hand, his fingers lazily intertwining with hers. "And I'll admit I've struggled to come to a solution."

He wasn't going to make this easy, was he? She wanted to shake him, to force him to tell her what she wanted to know without any more delay, but he wasn't a Master for nothing. As in all things, Obi-Wan's considerations were carefully thought out to the tiniest detail.

"I do believe she needs to learn a lesson, or what is to prevent her from trying something like this again? Of putting herself in danger? Or you?"

"Obi-Wan," Padmé interrupted. Even though she had convinced herself not to try to sway his decision, she couldn't sit there and not offer some defense for her assistant. It seemed only fair. "Dormé often reminds me of a recalcitrant child," she explained. "But one who has a great propensity for kindness and loyalty."

"It seems to me she needs a good spanking," Obi-Wan teased with a grin, although his comment broached a subject Padmé had been wanting to bring up herself; Something nearly just as serious. At least to her.

"Do you like children?" she asked sincerely, the unexpected question lifting both his brows.

"I do," he answered immediately, though he was not smiling, causing her some concern. "Although I've never considered having any of my own, if that's what you're asking. Is it?"

"Yes, it is," she admitted bluntly.

While he meditated on a reply, he took both her hands in his, staring at them thoughtfully for a while before lifting his gaze. "You've uncovered another one of my hesitations; one I wasn't quite ready to talk about. You seem to have a habit of doing that." He did smile then, although it disappeared quickly. "I understand why you did. You are a young woman of great influence and character, and you deserve to know how I feel before we pursue this relationship to its inevitable outcome."

He was stalling again, and it was upsetting her digestion.

"Younglings can be difficult. I've dealt with them in the past during my crèche rotations, so I am basing my opinions regarding those experiences. They are often stubborn, misbehaving, and messy. Are you sure you want that in your life?"

"Since you put it that way, yes." Padmé replied. He needed to know that. Not now, and not tomorrow, but someday, she couldn't imagine anything more grand than having a family with him. Besides, she had experience with children as well. Each time she visited her home on Naboo, she made an effort to spend time with her nieces.

"And are you ready to do it alone?" he warned her. "To take care of all the responsibilities that come with raising a child by yourself? There will be many times I won't be here to help you, and sometimes I will be completely out of reach."

Padmé opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her with a quick though lingering kiss.

"I'm not trying to talk you out of anything. Honestly, I'm not," he whispered against her cheek. "But before you make up your mind about us, I just want you to be sure. Think hard, Padmé, because once you have made that commitment, there's no going back."

She already knew the answer, or at least she thought she did. His wariness, however, told her to wait: To satisfy his own concerns by promising to consider all of the ramifications of tying her life to that of a Jedi.

"I'll think on it," she promised him, thoroughly enjoying the gentle caress of his beard against her cheek. "But back to Dormé ," she shifted gears once again.

"Yes, back to Dormé ," Obi-Wan repeated, withdrawing his embrace, though still holding her hands. "I'm not pressing charges."

Before she released the anxiety which had building up, she had to confirm his decision. "Are you sure? It's entirely up to Obi-Wan. I promise not to hold a grudge. I won't be angry no matter what you decide."

"I appreciate that and hate to admit that I do owe her a small amount of gratitude. If it weren't for Dormé, I might not have ever admitted how I felt about you. Even to myself!"

"Gods, I hope she didn't hear you say that!" Padmé joked, looking back toward her assistant's room, thankful to see the hallway was clear.

"I would ask a favor of you, though," Obi-Wan continued.

"Anything."

"Indulge me just a while longer. We have five more days to spend together, and I would greatly appreciate it if I could spend those five days with you in relative peace. Let's not tell her about my decision until we absolutely have to."

It was a terribly evil idea, but one Padmé absolutely adored! "I'm with you," she agreed. "Let her stew for a few days!" The plan sparked a memory in her mind, causing Padmé to immediately jump up from the sofa. "The stew!" she shouted as she raced toward the kitchen.

Once there, she jerked open the heating unit, but it was too late. Their meal for that night was blackened beyond recognition.

"Blast!" Padmé announced as she pulled the scorched dish from the oven and tossed it onto the counter.

Obi-Wan leaned against the doorframe, a playful smirk lifting his mouth. "Order out?"


	24. Chapter 24

**(spacer)**

 **Chapter Twenty-Four**

" **Goodbyes"**

Padmé had previously had reservations concerning Obi-Wan's idea to let Dormé worry for a few days. Perhaps, her assistant would finally swallow some of her pride and realize exactly what she had done, despite her good intentions. The Senator thought it was a rather harsh way to treat Dormé during the final days of their confinement, but Obi-Wan had been correct. It had been the most peaceful time they'd shared. There were no more games played with ulterior motives, no embarrassing conversations, no more overcooked meals, and no interruptions. She and Obi-Wan had ample opportunity to spend all their time together as they chose, even though their more intimate moments were shared in the privacy of her suite.

Today was the final day of the quarantine and Padmé was considering it with mixed feelings. She was happy that Obi-Wan and Anakin would be free to return to their duties, and she was relieved to return to work as well. But on the other hand, she was upset to no longer be able to spend her days and nights talking with Obi-Wan, laughing, holding, touching, and kissing him.

Although that's as far as they had taken their relationship. Padmé tried not to think about it. Whenever she felt anxious and began to question him, Obi-Wan would share bits of Jedi wisdom, mostly concerning the precariousness of life and the balance of time and occurrences. In fact, it seemed as if the Jedi had a philosophy for every situation, and it was about to make her crazy!

She didn't push him, however, and refused to force him to do something he had vowed not to. He kept telling her they had to wait, although Padmé didn't quite understand what they were waiting for.

Marriage? Was he the type of man who refused to reach that level of intimacy without some type of commitment ceremony? Even though he hadn't actually said the words, Padmé was beginning to believe it was true. And she would just have to wear her patience thin, hoping and praying for the day he would make her dreams become reality.

They had decided to spend their last morning together in what had become their favorite spot; the double-lounge out on the veranda. Anakin and Dormé had chosen to spend theirs in a more private location, and Padmé could only imagine what they were doing. She had closed the balcony doors just in case her assumptions had been correct.

"When are you going to tell her?" she broke the silence as Obi-Wan worked the arches of her feet, his thumbs digging into the muscles, offering the most pleasant and relieving sensations.

"Sometime this afternoon," he announced. "Right before Bant gives us clearance to leave."

"I see," Padmé replied softly, unable to disguise the disappointment in her voice.

"Hey," Obi-Wan, who now probably understood her expressions and emotions better than anyone, lifted her feet and scooted across the bench. "Are you going to be okay?"

She honestly didn't know how to answer that question. If he had given her some kind of assurance about the future, then perhaps she would have something to look forward to. But this! This felt as if she were being set to drift in open space without a star-map, where anything could happen!

"I…" she managed without bursting into tears, although could feel them beginning to prick at her eyes. "I'm going to miss you."

A tender smile lifted his mouth before he stole a glance to ensure their privacy and leaned forward to kiss her.

It had never crossed Padmé's mind what it might feel like to kiss a man with a beard. Sometimes, during their more aggressive sessions, when Obi-Wan's self-control would come close to being overwhelmed, her cheek would become slightly irritated, but the other times, she didn't mind the beard at all. And there were actually moments Padmé suspected he was using it to his advantage to drive her crazy! Oh, yes, he knew what he was doing, and she couldn't help but wonder, after today, when would he be able to do it again?

This day, however, his kisses were tender, his eyes filled with emotion. His embraces lingered, although his smiles were short-lived.

"We'll figure out a way," he whispered against her hair. "I know it's going to be difficult, but we'll figure out a way to see each other."

Thank the stars! It wasn't exactly a promise, but it was an intention he hadn't spoken of before. So far, all he had mentioned were his concerns and doubts, but now, for the first time, Padmé had some hope! She could no longer hold back the tide, and allowed her tears to run freely. He didn't condemn her for her own lack of control, but held her more closely than before.

She was in love with this man, but didn't dare speak the words. Not yet. Not until his doubts had been erased, and he could respond in kind without fear. Until that time, she would continue to be strong.

"They're coming," he announced, pulling back to put some unwelcome distance between them.

"Good afternoon, Master, Senator," Anakin greeted them as the veranda doors slid open.

"It is a pleasant day, Padawan," Obi-Wan replied.

"Pardon the interruption, but Dormé has something she wishes to say."

Reluctant wasn't the word which would adequately describe the young woman's attitude, but she stepped forward anyway, even without Anakin's assistance.

"Master Kenobi, Senator, I would like to take the opportunity to apologize for my wrongdoings. It was irresponsible and negligent of me to take such as risk with all our lives, and I hope you can both forgive me. I promise I will never do such a thing again."

Once the young woman had finished her admission, she paused, obviously awaited a response. When there wasn't one, she continued.

"I've decided I'm going to turn myself into the Jedi Council immediately so they can dole out any punishment they deem fit."

"That's good to hear," Obi-Wan stated, while Padmé fought to keep a straight face. She had never seen such trepidation on her assistant before! "I'm sure they'll be fair."

"Do you think so? I mean, I've heard stories, Master Kenobi. Cropwork on Bandomeer, crystal mining on Ilum? Would they really send me away to do that?"

Fear had slithered its way into her confession, which caused Padmé to feel immediate sympathy, although Anakin tossed the young woman a scathing look.

"You're right, okay. Okay!" Dormé continued. "I promised. Whatever it takes, I'll do it. I'll pay the price."

When she had finally stopped talking, her assistant's eyes squeezed shut as if to shut out the thought of what was to become of her, or to guard herself against the possibility of a tongue-lashing. What she got, however, was quite the opposite.

"That won't be necessary," Obi-Wan responded, causing one of Dormé's brown eyes to pop open, although the other remained closed.

"What?"

"I've decided no real harm was done, and you've certainly learned your lesson. I'll speak with the Council this evening and resolve the situation."

"Is he serious?" she asked Anakin.

The young man took the time to read his Master before answering. "I believe so, yes."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Dormé spout wholeheartedly, dropping down to hug Obi-Wan's knees. "You can't believe what a relief this is! I'm sorry! I really thought..

"We all know what you thought," Padmé interrupted. She really didn't want to hear any of this again!

"Now that that's over with," the Jedi Padawan was pleased to announce. "Master, Healer Erin is on her way up. She said after a quick examination, we'll be released."

"That's good news, Padawan," Obi-Wan announced, peeling Dormé from his legs in order to stand up. "We'd better go gather our belongings."

Never before had her plans gone so awry! After all her hard work, the danger she had put herself in while visiting those seedy establishments and contacting criminals just to obtain one simple illegal substance! And for what! Just so the Senator and Master Kenobi could become close friends? It was enough to make her want to scream!

There were a few times she thought they might've become more. She had witnessed some suspicious glances, and even a graze of skin on skin, but not once had she been able to catch them involved in anything substantial.

How disappointing!

And now, her time was up. Anakin had tried to explain sometimes things are the way they were meant to be, and Dormé figured he would know being a Jedi and all. Jedi were supposed to be in touch with the Force, Destiny, Fate and all that, but it still wasn't fair. The Senator deserved to be happy! Maybe, Master Kenobi wasn't the one for her after all?

It was a hard pill to swallow, but she was glad it was over. Maybe now, they could all move on with their lives and the Senator would meet someone new.

Healer Erin had come to take the Jedi to the Temple for a thorough examination, giving her dirty looks the entire time; as if she didn't like her or something. Dormé decided to blow it off. Besides Anakin, she had no plans on dealing with any more Jedi any time soon!

"I guess that's it," the young man told her as they stood in the foyer. "Sorry things didn't work out for you."

"Oh, they did. I got to spend some time with you, didn't I?" She grinned up at him and hugged him tightly before he headed out the apartment door.

"I'll be seeing you!" He announced over his shoulder as he entered the hallway leading to the lifts.

Dormé waved at him before ducking behind the foyer alcove. Healer Erin spoke a few words and then disappeared to join Anakin, which left the Senator and Master Kenobi alone.

She may have given up, but a parting scene always held promise!

Dormé strained to hear what they were saying, doing her best to stay out of sight. Disappointment however, began piling up when she noticed the pair were standing too far apart, and didn't seem to be saying anything lovers would in a similar situation.

"Damn!" she hissed, stepping back when Master Kenobi glanced her way.

She thought she'd been caught and it took a moment to gather her courage to take another peek, but boy, was she was glad when she did!

The Master didn't have anything on the Padawan, but from what she could tell, Obi-Wan Kenobi was a decent kisser! And she hadn't previously known the Senator could hold her breath for that long!

But she'd seen enough!

Triumphant and overjoyed, Dormé plucked her communicator from her belt and entered a familiar code.

"Haven't you had enough of me?" Anakin's voice chirped over the comm.

"Of course not!" Dormé beamed, still peeking at the obvious lovers now embracing in the hall. "I just had an idea. There's a new holovid being released this weekend. Want to come over and see it with me?"

"That all depends on what it is," the young man replied worriedly.

"Don't bug out; it has nothing to do with terrorism and sabotage," she assured him.

"All right, I guess. I'll comm you later in the week."

"Great! Later!" she answered, closing the device.

Hopefully, watching _The Marriage Broker_ would give her some good ideas. There were plans that needed to be made and soon!

La'End

A/N: Ok, it's the end, but not the end! Sequel coming folks! "Duty and Desire" is what I'm calling it…unless I change my mind. ;)


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